A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer and to history. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

Uprising Ch 33 – The Incidents after the Battle of Long Island.

Alice

Manhattan Island, New York Colony

21 November 1776

My dearest Isabella:

I hope this letter finds you well, along with young Edward George and your unborn babe. I write you what is likely my last letter for a long while. There is a post rider hiding in the shadows, as we all patriots remaining in New York must now hide, and he awaits my missive so that he may escape the island before it becomes impossible to do so. Therefore, I shall have to make haste.

Firstly, I shall not hesitate to assure you that I last saw your husband in mid-September, wretched of soul, aye, as we all patriots be by the horrific losses our cause has faced these last few months, yet he was in one piece. Pray, assure Mrs. McCarty that her husband was with him and in one piece as well. I do not know if you have had word from them since, but should you have not, be further assured that Lieutenant Whitlock informed me that Captain Cullen, Lieutenant McCarty, and Ensign Black were departing Manhattan Island in late October with General Washington, battered and beaten as is the rest of our Continental Army, yet alive.

Your father, Major Swan, of the opposing forces, is also alive. That reassurance I can provide from much more recent information. In fact, I saw him today – just a short while earlier as it is. With the Major belonging to the victorious side in the battle which has occurred for New York, and that side also being that of my husband's, Lieutenant John Andre, the Major is now billeted in our home.

As you can imagine, I had no choice in the matter, for with thousands upon thousands of His Majesty's troops now roaming New York Colony, they are to be quartered wherever they see fit. Moreover, I am a woman, and one married to a British soldier yet living alone in a large home while my husband is imprisoned in Pennsylvania.

Now, I must hide my loyalties from a man I once perceived as a second father. And while some might see the billeting of such a rank in my home as an…opportunity, your father knows me well – too well. He has hired me a 'chaperone,' the wise, generous man. This chaperone is an old, loyalist shrew who is to 'keep me company in these dangerous times.' The bat rarely leaves my side while I am awake; in fact, the only way I am able to write you this letter is while she believes me asleep.

Forgive me, Isabella, if it pains you, but I trust you shall understand how, despite his continued attempts to be 'fatherly,' after recent events, I can no longer see your father as anything other than an enemy.

I further apologize, my dear Isabella, both for the tenebrific missive, as well as for the length of time since my last letter; however, I trust you now understand the reasons for both. It has been a series of nightmares ever since General Howe landed his damnable troops on Staten Island in late June. And although the ensuing weeks, while the British general awaited yet more reinforcements, also provided an opportunity for our esteemed General Washington to increase his ranks by calling in militia, including that regiment led by your husband, Captain Cullen, it proved insufficient for our side.

I am told that before the British attacked, General Howe attempted once more to bring a peaceful resolution to that which no longer has a peaceful resolution and not merely because cannon fire had already been shot into our city. Lieutenant Whitlock informed me that after firing on our city as 'warning,' Howe sent a representative with a letter for General Washington. In this missive, our General was addressed as merely 'George Washington, Esquire.'

'Twas a massive insult, indeed, and General Washington rightly refused to accept such a slap in the face. This indignity was followed up by assurances from Howe that Parliament was prepared to pardon our General if he surrendered. A lovely sentiment it might seem, but it would not only have left the rest of us countryless, it would have also branded all those who followed the General into war as traitors to the crown and fair game for hanging. And so our General assured Howe that 'those who have committed no fault want no pardon.'

Nonetheless, can you guess, Isabella, what General Howe did next? I shall not keep you in suspense. He promised pardon to ALL in our Continental Army – that is, should they switch sides and join His Majesty's army. Isabella, I am both humiliated and outraged by those who accepted such an offer as well as by the number of loyalists in this damnable colony whom eagerly took up arms against their fellow colonists once the British landed on our soil.

Nay, peace was…is no longer an option.

Yet, Isabella, as you are my dearest friend, I shall admit to you that as much as I do esteem our General Washington, 'twas a naïve decision, nay, a stupid one which set his inexperience in full display, and which has led to where our army is now. For the love of all, Manhattan is an island, and we were facing four-hundred ships, including seventy-three warships, and a force that has now been estimated at thirty-two-thousand strong! Common sense should have guided any military man of even scant experience to keep his already meager forces together! Yet Washington split an army numbered at only a fraction of that which was at General Howe's disposal, sending half to Long Island and keeping half here on Manhattan Island.

When General Howe finally did attack in late August, our General marched into Brooklyn without guarding all his flanks and allowed himself to be surrounded! I am told 'twas only the cover of fog and a still inexplicable decision by General Howe to halt the attack and instead lay siege to Brooklyn, which allowed Washington and his army, including your husband, to cross the river and retreat back into Manhattan Island.

And so, in mid-September, General Howe landed his troops on Manhattan Island, and in the weeks that followed, further pushed our army into a northward retreat, meeting and defeating them in battles once again at White Plains and at Fort Washington. Hundreds of our men were killed, and thousands of prisoners were taken and are now held on prison ships just off our harbor. Nightly do their bodies wash up on shore.

What is more, as if our island had not suffered enough at that point, just a few days after General Howe's arrival in Manhattan, a sudden fire burned, spread, and ravaged such a significant portion of our island as to render it unrecognizable were you to see it, my dear Isabella. New York colony lays in ruins both at the hands of General Howe and of the blaze – though, I would venture to say that the pair of hands belong to one and the same, for I would set my life on the fact that the godless British are to blame for both, in further effort to plunder our city.

After all this, one would think the situation could grow no worse for patriots, would one not, Isabella? Yet, it does. It did. In addition to the thousands of men we have lost in the past few weeks, on the same day that the great fire began, another loss was added to the unimaginable losses. A brother in Liberty, Captain Nathan Hale, was double-crossed, captured, and hung while in service to our cause. While his death cannot be blamed on the fire, once again, the fault lies fully at the feet of the godforsaken British. 'Twas once more Lieutenant Whitlock who provided the information, as he and your husband were present at the hanging, hidden in the shadows. I am told Captain Hale's dying words were ones which many of us would happily proclaim:

'I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.'

Aye, Isabella, in my case, at least, truer words have rarely been spoken.

Isabella, our patriot cause has never seemed as hopeless as it does at this moment. New York colony has fallen and is in full control of the British. They now dominate our seas, our harbors, and dictate what comes in and out of our land. General Washington, your husband, and all our troops are in retreat, being chased across New Jersey colony by General Cornwallis. Even before they departed from New York, desertion was rampant, and 'twill only grow worse, for Lieutenant Whitlock has told me that the initial, one-year enlistments with the Continental Army expire at the end of this year. With morale so low, many men are desperate to go home.

I have reserved the worst – at least for me, personally – for last.

My husband, John Andre, has written from where he has been held prisoner in Pennsylvania since November of '75. He has been freed in a prisoner exchange and even now rides toward a British-controlled New York colony. He is expected home any day.

'Tis an unendurable situation all over, and almost more than I can bear. And so I shall close this letter by saying that while I miss you and pray for you and yours, I cannot say when, if ever, you and I shall ever be together again.

God bless you,

Alice Andre

OOOOO

Manhattan Island, New York Colony

23 November 1776

Dearest Daughter,

I hope this letter finds you well along with my grandson, Edward George. I expect he has grown much in these past months, as he should be near to ten months old now. Despite our estrangement, daughter, I miss you both more than words can say.

It has been a difficult few months, yet as you see, I live. I shall further assure you that your husband was in the city until recently. For your sake and that of my grandson's, I hope he lives as well. However, I also sincerely hope the events of the past few months have given him pause and aided him in acceptance of the untenability of his cause, so that he may relinquish this foolish notion of 'liberty' before 'tis too late. As it is, Parliament bestowed upon General Howe the ability to grant pardon to all those who seek it, even to George Washington. Yet, Washington dismissed the pardon, choosing to further this unnecessary war. As much as I once respected the man, for he was a fellow officer, I cannot but find all his latest actions arrogant and foolhardy.

'Tis a generous offer, Isabella, which would only require the proclamation of loyalties to the King. I urge you to make your husband see reason, for the sake of your son if for nothing and no one else. Yet, the decision must be yours and your husband's. Beyond once more stating that I should hope recent events will have assisted him in seeing how vain is his cause, I shall say no more on the subject.

The good news is that we have once again gained control of New York colony and stripped it from rebel hands. Parliament promised and delivered a large contingent, which landed in New York Harbor. 'Twas commanded by General Howe, who successfully outmaneuvered General Washington, even while conducting himself as a gentleman despite the radically unchivalrous and barbarian tactics employed by Washington and his army. Why, at one point, Washington and his men were surrounded with our forces at their back and the river at their front. Yet, instead of accepting the loss and surrendering, Washington and his men escaped across the river and under cover of fog, like thieves in the night. If that is not the very definition of behavior unbecoming an officer, I know not what is.

This battle, however, has been hard-won, Isabella, yet it was a necessary task. Were you only to see the condition in which the rebels have left this King's colony – the colony in which you were born and which I know you loved – you would understand. Daughter, you were raised in a household where you were taught the importance of respect to our Crown. 'Twas imperative that we root out and chase away the disrespectful seditionists.

Now, New York lies in ruins, with the anarchist and insurgent revolutionaries having gone as far as burning the city in their wake. 'Tis true, my daughter, as difficult as you may find it to believe. In fact, a number of rebel officers were found concealed in the city directly after the fire, with one, in particular, a Nathan Hale, discovered in the midst of committing treason; therefore, a traitor's end he met.

Here, despite my previous assurance that I would mention it no more, I shall once more urge you, Isabella, to make your husband see reason before 'tis too late. This war initiated by the colonists will not end well for them. It will be longer and deadlier than even I believed. Despite our differences, I do not want to see your husband suffer the fate of a traitor. I do not want to see you made a widow or your son made fatherless. Even now, 'tis no secret that Washington and all with him are being chased through New Jersey colony by General Cornwallis. Cornwallis will catch up to them, Isabella, and then…this uprising will be quashed.

Isabella, I have one more piece of news to share, and I can delay it no longer. 'Tis grievously difficult for me to write you this, yet I did not want you to learn of it elsewhere.

These past weeks, I have been quartered in the home of Lieutenant John Andre and Alice Andre. It is no secret that Alice's loyalties were once in question, hence the marriage her father arranged to Andre. Once I quartered in their home, and with her husband held prisoner this past year, I could not risk the possibility that her loyalties were still on the wrong side. Therefore, I took the liberty of hiring a chaperone to live here as well, both for her well-being and my own.

Isabella, two days ago, Alice disappeared from her home.

I assure you, I have men searching for her in the hopes that she is well, that perhaps all that has occurred has frightened her, and she is somewhere in hiding. Yet, I cannot offer you any assurances that she will be found safe and sound. 'Tis not a good time, Isabella, if ever there was one, for a young woman to wander New York colony alone. I fear for her daughter. Alice was always recklessly strong-willed, and I am wary of what her obstinacy has led her to do. Yet, I recall her as a young child, as your favored playmate, and I can only hope that 'tis not too late for her either.

And so I hope you see why I beseech you, Isabella, to not only help your husband see the error in his actions before 'tis too late for your family's harmony and well-being, but if you happen to receive word from Alice, do advise her to return home, for her own well-being.

If and when she is found, I shall hasten to inform you. Until then, may God bless you and my grandson.

Your father,

Major Charles Swan.

OOOOO

Cullen Hill House

30 November 1776

Father:

I have just received your letter, and while I do hope this letter finds you well, truly I do, there is not much more I may currently say to you without disrespecting you grievously. I shall, therefore, keep this as short as possible, yet I have so many accusations to lay at your feet, so much fury within me at the moment, I do not even know where to begin.

Nay, I do know where to start: with Alice.

My dear, brave, strong, and sweet Alice is gone from her house, missing either by her doing or someone else's, I care not, for either way, I cannot but blame Parliament, the King, and the King's army, and thereby indirectly you, Father.

My heart is broken, my stomach twisted into painful knots for she is as a sister to me, and you know this. This should have never occurred. Indeed, had she not been forced by her father – with your advice – to marry where she did not respect, forced to deny her beliefs, forced to live a life she did not want, then this would not have occurred. I read the guilt you feel in between the lines of your letter, Father, and I know you feel the truth of my words. You leave news of Alice's disappearance for the end of your letter because you could not bring yourself to acknowledge it, yet you cannot escape it. I pray to God that she is safe, Father; for otherwise, I do not know that I can ever forgive.

Yet, along with that unimaginable news, there is more, so much more. I shall not lay blame at your feet for my husband's predicament, for that is of his own choosing, as he was allowed to follow his beliefs to where they led him. Neither shall I condemn him for following his beliefs, nor as much as I pray almost hourly for his safety, shall I EVER ask him to swear allegiance where he does not feel it. I am now a mother, and Edward is a father as well as a husband and son, and I shall NEVER put either of us in a position where we cannot look at our children and tell them that regardless of how matters ended, we followed our beliefs, and therefore, so are they allowed to do so. For that is the meaning of Liberty.

As for the condition of New York colony, aye, I am greatly aggrieved by the news we have all heard of its current condition. I do not refer to merely the fire, which I shall never believe was begun by patriots, whom throughout this entire exchange wanted nothing more than to protect and preserve their land. I refer to its fall. Yet, 'twas always a loyalist haven, and I include our family in this; therefore, 'tis no surprise it fell so quickly.

However, do not use my love for New York, which aye, I felt and feel still to justify your actions. Aye, I am New York Colony born as was my mother – your wife – and I assure you, she would be as horrified as am I by what the King's army – and thereby you, her husband – has done to our land of birth. Am I to expect the same treatment now toward New Jersey colony – the land of your grandson's birth – as your fellow soldiers march through it chasing men whose crime is the desire to govern themselves?

I can say no more, Father, for my hands tremble, my head swims, and my tongue has run away from me sufficiently, as I am sure you would agree. Despite everything, I shall continue praying nightly for your safety.

Isabella Cullen

OOOOO

1 December 1776

"Isabella, are you well?"

Rosalie's question breaks me out of my wistful reverie. As I stared unseeingly out the window, where the hilly darkness is only broken by cascading snow, my mind's eye took me to a winter long ago, when Alice and I were young girls. We were born into privilege, and as such, as we played in the snow in New York colony, wrapped in our fur and mufflers, we were completely unaware that there would come a winter where our home would no longer be our home. In this winter, she would be lost, and I would be frightened and heartbroken for her…for my husband…and for so many who were currently endangered.

"I am well," I say, and with a sigh, I revert my attention to my son, my Edward George, who plays on my lap, these days not a comfortable lap to navigate, yet he manages. Unaware of the turmoil roiling within me, he pulls at my lips and points at them, determined to continue the game we were playing before my distraction.

"Mouth," I say, enunciating clearly for him. "Mouth."

He presses his lips together, mimicking my motions, and then opens. "Maa-ohhh."

"Very good, Edward," I smile.

"Wonderful, Edward!" Rosalie claps heartily from the chair across from me, where she sits knitting something or other for my unborn babe. As Edward moves on to my eyes, Rosalie again looks at me.

"I know you are concerned, yet you must attempt to-"

"Eyes," I enunciate for Edward. "Eyes."

"I!" Edward exclaims proudly.

"Yes, Edward," I smile. "Rosalie, I know you mean well, but I cannot but feel extreme anxiousness these days," I say, keeping my eyes on Edward, who is now pinching my nose. "Nose."

"I do understand," Rosalie murmurs. "Yet, you must recall you are due any day now, and the babe within you feels your anxiety, which may affect your labor. Recall Edward's birth-"

"No-ooh-sss," Edward says.

"Very good, Edward. What am I to do, Rosalie? She is like a sister to me!"

Rosalie is silent, and tears now sting my eyes. Edward reaches for them and wipes them off curiously.

"Mama?"

"Rosalie, dearest, as you are like a sister to me as well. I apologize for losing my patience, yet if God forbid, you were to be lost, I would feel just as wretched. Edward, tears."

"Do not apologize, dearest," replies she calmly. "As I said, I do understand. 'Tis merely my job to concern myself with your condition as well."

"Tee-ahhs."

"Yes, Edward. I know, Rosalie, and…and I know not what I would do without you."

"Mama?" Edward repeats, and I smile at him through the blur of tears, pulling him in as close as I may with the protrusion between us. "Mama!" he repeats against my neck. "Mama, Mama, Mama!"

"There, there," Rosalie says, and I realize she is now standing over me. "Edward, come with Aunty Rose so that Mama may take a breath."

"Tee-Tee!" Edward says, happily reaching up for Rose now. He is a joyful boy, and he is the household's pride.

As Rose takes Edward off my lap, Mrs. Clearwater enters the room, and I hastily wipe my tears before she may see them and fuss. Nonetheless, when I look at her, there is a frown across her forehead, and I know she has noted them. Still, she says naught, and I appreciate the reprieve when she announces supper instead.

"Should we wait for Mister Carlisle to return from meeting with the men," asks she instead, "or should we-"

At that moment, we hear a horse ride up, and with a deep breath, I employ all the steps necessary these days to get to my feet.

"It seems Papa is returned, Mrs. Clearwater. Pray, let us serve supper. I shall be in the kitchen momentarily to assist you, while Rosalie keeps her godson entertained."

"Mistress, Leah and I need not assistance!" the lady cries. "'Tis bad enough you refuse to remain in confinement."

Rosalie laughs. "Mrs. Clearwater, you should know this of your mistress by now. Confined is something she shall never be."

"Very well, but we need no help in the kitchen from our mistress, for the love-"

When the door is pushed open, and the wind and snow blow in, Mrs. Clearwater's complaints are broken by the man who rushes in.

Papa Carlisle – who is home from the New Jersey Legislature in Trenton, where he serves as Secretary – stops haltingly before us. His eyes are rounded, features sharp and stiff. Instantly, I am on alert.

"What is it, Papa?"

"Riders have spotted a regiment moving in."

All blood drains from me and pools at my feet. For weeks, we have been on alert, guarding the perimeter, aware that both our Continental Army and General Cornwallis and his army are marching on New Jersey, chasing our army on their way to Pennsylvania, the seat of the Continental Congress and where our nation's legislature meets.

"Which side?" ask I.

"We cannot tell yet," Papa says in a rush. "I am taking the men to investigate. I need you all to remain inside the house until I return."

"But Papa, what of you? And of the livestock should they try to steal it? And of my Hope-"

"ISABELLA!"

His tone startles me, and he quickly approaches, placing a much more gentle and apologetic hand on my arm.

"Please, my girl. If something were to happen-"

"Papa, what about you?"

"I shall be fine," he insists, "but you must think of my grandson and of the other child growing within you."

"He is correct, Isabella," Rosalie calls out. "Come, let us sit together."

"I must go," Papa says, and fear sends a shiver racing through me. Nonetheless, though he insists he must go, Papa holds my gaze intently.

"One more thing, Isabella. Should something happen…should it indeed be Redcoats-"

"Papa-"

"Tell them you are Major Swan's daughter, and Edward George is his grandson."

"I shall not abandon the rest-!"

"Isabella!"

"Isabella, come! We shall argue of it here, together!" Rosalie insists.

"Papa!" Edward George calls out, reaching out his arms toward his grandfather and unaware of all that occurs.

With one last, long look toward his grandson, who is still in Rosalie's arms, Carlisle offers him a smile and a nod. For a few moments, after he departs, I stare at the door. Once again, that memory of Alice and I, as innocent young girls, replays in my mind.

"Mrs. Clearwater, please retrieve what we may need."

Rosalie's quiet request once more recalls me to the present. As Mrs. Clearwater's anxious footsteps retreat, I turn, making my way slowly back to Rosalie and reclaiming my son.

"Papa?" he asks.

"Papa shall return soon," I smile, and Edward giggles happily.

Mrs. Clearwater soon returns with Leah in tow as well as with Rosalie's request. Laying the canvas on the coffee table, she unwraps it, and we all stare down at the contents.

"One for each of us," I say.

Rosalie nods as she takes the knives and distributes them.

"My dear Mrs. McCarty," Mrs. Clearwater says, her voice shaking, "I do not know if I can-"

"You only need conceal it in your stockings, Mrs. Clearwater," Rosalie assures the lady gently. "And God-willing, we shall not require them."

"You too, Leah," I say firmly.

"Aye, Isabella," Leah agrees tearfully.

"Well," I chuckle and bounce Edward in my arms once all the women have concealed their hasty weapons. "It seems I cannot even reach my stockings without help these days, much less conceal a weapon within them! What is more, God forbid my son gets his hands on it before I do!"

"Mama!"

Despite everything, I chuckle with much more humor. "Therefore, mine shall remain on the coffee table, concealed under the canvas."

"No one shall touch you or your son while we are here, Isabella," Rosalie says.

"Mrs. McCarty is correct, Mistress," Mrs. Clearwaters says.

"Aye!" Leah agrees.

"As long as my son is safe," I begin saying, and all the while, my father's offer from a few months earlier, when he wanted to send Edward George to an aunt in England, replays in my mind. "As long as he…and the child within me are safe…"

But there is only one way to assure that.

Hooves resound, their quick and even steps growing closer - about a half dozen sets, I would say.

Mrs. Clearwater shrieks.

"Shh. Calm yourself, Mrs. Clearwater," I breathe.

When a knock comes at the door, our breaths collectively catch. Mrs. Clearwater makes to approach.

"No, Mrs. Clearwater." The woman is verily in tears, and in no shape to greet Redcoats. I hand Edward over to Rosalie.

"Isabella…"

"I am the mistress of this land," say I, lifting my chin, "and 'tis my duty to greet whoever is at the door."

Rosalie holds my gaze.

"If anything should happen," I whisper, "run with him and do not look back."

A long, heartbeat transpires.

"I shall, Isabella."

With a kiss to my son's forehead, I swallow hard and hand him over.

"Mama!"

When I open the door, my breath quietly catches.

The clothing of the man on the other side of the door offers no indication of to which side he belongs. He is covered in a long cloak, and although his cocked hat displays a cockade, 'tis covered in snow. What is more, more men dismount slowly and tiredly behind him, yet they are still too far away for the lantern light from within the house to illuminate them. As it is, I see only vague shapes, hear and smell the horses.

"Good evening," says the man before me. He offers me a quick and formal bow, which I do not return. "I must speak with the mistress of the house."

"I am the mistress of the house."

The man's gaze momentarily falls to the large protrusion in my midsection, which cannot be hidden by the heavy shawl around me. When he lifts a brow, I wrap the shawl tighter. And when his eyes move upward, he wipes all expression from his features before offering me a hasty bow.

"Madam, we have been riding all day from the north, and we respectfully request quarters. I have been sent ahead to arrange…"

As he speaks, he holds his chin high in the night air, his mien somber, and his gaze on a spot somewhere past my shoulder. Though he speaks of a request, the entire speech is delivered in a tone that brooks no opposition and is therefore truly more of a command.

A burning fury singes my scalp at the man's arrogant effrontery. 'Tis the first time since my move with Father from New York Colony to New Jersey colony, when this entire question of the meaning of 'Liberty' first arose for me, that I truly comprehend what the Smythe family must have felt those two years ago. Father and I displayed unmitigated disrespect and audacity in quartering ourselves in their home in Freehold Town, without giving them a second thought.

"We have been quartering in taverns and confiscated homes, and we would appreciate private chambers…"

Blood pounds in my temples as he continues, for I am no longer frightened but rather infuriated that an officer who stands for the complete opposite of what my husband stands for dares to request safe quarters in his home – and a warm bed under his roof. For all I know…Lord Almighty, for all I know, this man before me has the blood of those I love on his hands. My child lurches in my womb, apparently as outraged as am I.

Keeping myself from spitting on him is almost more than I can manage, and I do so only because I must keep my Edward George, the child within me, and the rest of those in my household safe.

"Sir, I am sure you would appreciate private chambers," I hiss, "but this household does not provide quarters for men who march across the land pillaging and plundering-"

"Madam!"

"Pillaging and plundering," continue I through his one-word outburst, "what is not theirs. I, therefore, request that you remove yourself and your soldiers from my property."

"But, Madam, my commander and his aides-de-camp," cries he, flourishing a hand toward those dismounting behind him, hidden by darkness and snow, "desperately require quarters for the evening! It has been a difficult few weeks!"

"Aye, I am aware of the difficulties of the past weeks," I growl. "We here in the central portion of New Jersey colony are not so far removed from civilization where we do not receive news of all that has occurred – the battles in Long Island, the destruction of Manhattan Island, and all the deaths which have occurred in pursuit of the forceful control of New York colony!"

"Just so! Then, you understand, Madam, why my commander and the rest of our men anxiously seek quarters as we make our way to Philadelphia!"

"All I understand, sir," say I through clenched teeth, protectively holding my stomach, "is that your commander and the rest of your men would do best to hastily depart from this property. Now, if you will excuse me, as you see, I should be in confinement, and 'tis too cold to stand here and-"

"But, Madam!"

"Lieutenant Harrison, is there a problem?"

The question is asked calmly, in a rather soft-spoken voice by one of the men who has dismounted his horse and makes his way toward us amid the darkness.

"Sir, the mistress of the house will not give us quarter!"

"Are you certain? I was told there would be no issue."

Despite the approaching man's rather gentle voice, Rosalie must hear this discussion as well as his approach.

"Mrs. Clearwater, pray take young Edward," I hear her say, and swiftly looking over my shoulder, I find her standing and ready to hand over my son.

"Rosalie, pray remain with Edward."

I spit the words out with no room for argument, for as much as I appreciate Mrs. Clearwater and her love for my son, if someone needs to run with Edward in her arms, I rather trust Rosalie's speed more than the older woman's.

Rosalie observes my expression and nods, holding tightly to Edward. I return my attention to the man before me as well as to the dark figure of the one now closing in. He casts a tall shadow, and as he nears, the light from within illuminates a navy-toned cocked hat over a wig as white as the falling snow. He wears a dark, heavy cloak, and since it lays open, under it, I spy a sharp, well-tailored navy and white uniform with gold trim.

'Tis not the uniform of a soldier in the King's service.

"Sir…General," the man before me says, addressing the other man, the tall one, "I am at a loss as to why Captain Cullen told us-"

My breath hitches wildly now.

"Captain Cullen," I breathe in a rush, my entire body quivering. "Did you say, Captain Cullen?"

"Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mrs. Cullen?" the tall, soft-spoken gentleman inquires.

"Aye," I reply swiftly and anxiously, and the child within me jumps once more. "I am Mrs. Cullen."

"Good evening, Mrs. Cullen. I am General George-"

I do not even allow him to complete his sentence nor his bow before I continue my questioning.

"Sir, did you say-"

Another horse approaches suddenly and swiftly in the darkness, a darkness which is only broken by the glowing, ivory snow. The horse neighs as it comes to a halting stop, rearing on its hind legs as the shadowed rider dismounts in one jump – a confident and eager dismount. The man sprints directly toward us…directly toward me. And all the while, my heart batters against my chest.

"Ahh, here is the Captain," the soft-spoken General exclaims. "Perhaps he may explain-"

"Isabella?"

"Edward," I choke.

The light from within the house strikes my husband just a moment before he pushes aside the men between us. Before he picks me up, I manage to spy a weary, shaggy face, a battered uniform, and a cocked hat with an officer's cockade. Then, I see no more as I bury my face against his neck.

"Isabella, thank God," Edward breathes against my temple, wrapping me in his arms as well as he can manage. "Thank God." He kisses my face wildly, then swiftly pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "Our son?"

"He is well," I smile. "Inside with Rosalie."

"And…?" he chokes, setting me down and placing a hand on my stomach.

"Aye," I grin. "Also well and due any day now."

Despite his haggard appearance, a grin so broad appears on his woolly face it may split in two. And then…he pulls me into his arms once more.

"Ahh, Isabella." He buries his face in my hair. "I am home. At least for one, short night, I am home."

A/N: Thoughts?

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***Here's a short, quick history lesson, regarding The Battle of Long Island, for those who are interested***

The battle took place in the southwest portion of Long Island, New York, which is present-day Brooklyn; therefore, the battle is sometimes referred to as the Battle of Brooklyn. The battle took place on August 27, 1776. The Americans were under the overall command of General George Washington, and under him were Israel Putnam, William Alexander, and John Sullivan. The primary commander for the British was General William Howe, and under him were Charles Cornwallis, Henry Clinton, and James Grant.

When the British were finally forced out of Boston in March of 1776, George Washington knew they would soon return. The most strategic port in the Americas was New York City, and Washington correctly guessed that the British would attack there first. Washington marched his army from Boston to New York and ordered them to start preparing to defend the city.

A large British fleet arrived off the coast of New York in July of 1776. They set up camp on Staten Island across from New York. The British sent across men to negotiate with Washington, who offered him a pardon from the king if he would surrender, but he replied that "Those who have committed no fault want no pardon."

On August 22, the British began landing troops on Long Island. The Americans remained in their defensive positions and waited for the British to attack. The British first attacked in the early morning hours of August 27, sending in a small force at the center of the American defense. While the Americans focused on this smaller attack, the main force of the British army attacked from the east, nearly surrounding the Americans.

Rather than losing his entire army to the British, Washington ordered the army to retreat to Brooklyn Heights. Several hundred men from Maryland, who would later become known as the Maryland 400, held off the British while the army retreated. Many of them were killed. Yet, in a move that's questioned 'til this day, instead of finishing off the Americans, General Howe halted the attack, claiming he didn't want to needlessly sacrifice British troops as they had at the Battle of Bunker Hill. He also figured that the Americans had no way to escape.

On the night of August 29, Washington made a desperate attempt to save his army. The weather was foggy and rainy. He ordered his men to stay silent and had them slowly make their way across the East River to Manhattan. When the British woke up the next morning, the Continental Army was gone.

Nonetheless, The Battle of Long Island was a decisive victory for the British. George Washington and the Continental Army were eventually chased through New Jersey and forced to retreat all the way to Pennsylvania, where another extremely important (and with a better outcome for the Americans) battle and crossing took place. The British remained in control of New York City for the rest of the Revolutionary War.

***Lesson Over***

"See" you soon, and stay safe.