The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale Read Free

Strathmore would have to be located elsewhere. As most of Manhattan Island was a battleground, they were settled on Long Island. A month and a half later, the general received orders to head a little farther north to the recently captured Fort Washington, renamed Fort Knyphausen to honor the Tory victory. The general, however, did not want to expose his young wife to garrison life, especially not a garrison filled with Hessian soldiers. They were established near the village of Chesterton, a few hours’ ride north along the Hudson River, in a farmstead confiscated from a Mr. and Mrs. Cuyler. They were positioned not far from the neutral buffer zone between the largely republican upper Hudson Valley and British-controlled territory to the south.
    Thus they lived as protectors of the reclaimed New York colony. Clara hated the colonies, so far removed as she was from civilization. She was comfortable enough, yes, as she lived in what passed for an elegant house. It was new, stone and wood, but the ceilings were much too low. Although the general outfitted the rooms with mostly imported proper English furnishings, what was not imported was sham and common befitting simple gentry as the Cuylers were. The fireplace had a mantel painted to look like marble; the woodwork was skilled but never gilded. The food was rustic, the fashions austere, and the people unsophisticated.
    The Americans—loyalists in Chesterton, certainly not English-hating rebels—were all charming and nice to her in pointed contrast to her husband’s indifference. He had not allowed her to bring her own lady’s maid or any other servants from Cirencester. Instead, he hired the entire household staff himself. They were in the middle of a war, he reminded her, and the colonies were filled with spies. Their staff was kept to a bare minimum.
    Her new maid, Annabella, was spirited and the only person Clara knew who could be called a friend. When Annabella wasn’t around chattering away about village life or her betrothed, Redmond, or Clara’s hair and clothes, Clara was lonely. She tried to amuse herself with her husband’s library—which was certainly insufficient as he left the most valuable books back in Gloucestershire—or some gentlewoman’s expected task like embroidery. But what she really missed were the long talks with Mama or the ambling walks with Oliver. Her husband took no interest in her. Had he done so, it might have lessened the pain she felt being away from her true home and family. The general’s neglect only served to heighten her despair and remind her that it would be a long time before she could return to England. She desperately wanted to be pregnant, especially pregnant with the requisite sons.
    The general visited her bed once a week, on Wednesday nights, but there was never the emotion of their first encounter, never the tension, desire, or even the fear. His actions were perfunctory, a chore he had to perform. They both wore their nightdresses, never revealing their bodies. Try as she might, Clara could not charm her husband into her bed on a night other than Wednesday, and not just a few times he was unable to perform due to exhaustion or drink.
    Then, quite unexpectedly, one Monday night, the general went to Clara of his own craving. He had won a little money at the gaming table, had joked and relaxed earlier with his friends, and smelled like tobacco and Madeira. He was in a playful and seductive mood. That night the general took off her nightgown and his own and, for the first time, touched her naked body. His lips and tongue covered each nipple in worshipful kisses, then trailed to her belly. Before he entered her, potently erect, his fingers played in the curls of her mons, dipping lower to spread the honeyed slickness to the sensitive nub, a feeling so rare and intense her body jerked and she let out a little cry. He calmed her with soothing words, then melded her mouth with his as he penetrated her slowly, letting her