The Traitor's Stain (wattys 2019)

Chapter One - Setauket, Long Island

Ophelia Stroud woke that morning to an empty bed, one arm outstretched to Noah's side of the bed, as if she'd been reaching for him during the night. She'd woken up every morning for two months like that, one hand where husband had slept for years. The spot that had been empty since he'd left for Washington's army.

    She sighed, making a fist and bunching up the sheets in her hand. She'd thought she'd be able to handle it, having her husband gone to fight the royal army. But, her heart ached every time she thought about him. And there was never a moment where she didn't think about him.

    Ophelia sat up and ran a hand through her curly, auburn hair. She listened for any noises that might tell her that the members of her household - her daughter Constance, her slave Beth, royal army private Matthew Connors - were awake. She couldn't hear anything from Constance's room on one side of her room, or from Matthews on the other side. But, the floorboards downstairs, where the kitchen was, were too loud to ignore. As was the sound of Constance battering Beth and Matthew with a constant stream of questions. It was time to rescue them from her.

    She stood up, put on a robe over her bed clothes, and walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

    The kitchen was business as usual. Beth was cooking some oatmeal on the steam-powered stove, while Constance and Matthew - Private Connors, she guessed - sat at the table. Matthew was dressed in his bright red uniform, already, his tricorne hat on his left side, his blonde hair tied in a short tail with a green ribbon.

    He scrambled to his feet, taking his hat and putting it over his heart, when he saw her walk in. "G-good morning, Miss Stroud."

    Constance looked up at him, frowning in that pouty, squinty way of hers. "Why do you always stand when she walks in?"

    Matthew began to blush. "I... erm..."

    "You can sit down, Private Connors," Ophelia said. "Really: there's no need to be so formal."

    "Yes, miss." Matthew sat back down, and she sat on the opposite of the table from him.

    She couldn't help but feel a little sympathetic to the poor boy. He was the most polite person she'd ever met, to the point where she found him to be a tad queer. She hoped that he would stay that way, despite Constance's questions about his mannerisms.

    Beth set bowls in front of everybody, then sat down at the table, herself.

    Mathew shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything.

    It seemed that Ophelia wasn't the only person having a hard time adjusting.

    Ophelia looked over at Beth. "I can count on you to help me with that fabric order, right?"

    Beth nodded. Of course: when was the last time she'd said no? "When do we need to have it done by?"

    Matthew frowned. "Fabric order?"

    Ophelia nodded. "The colonel needs about twenty bolts of red fabric for his men. The officers, specifically. We've got the shipment in, and they're coming to get them today."

    Matthew nodded, then looked down at his pocket watch.

    HIs eyes grew wide, and he bolted upright from the table.

    "I'm - erm - I'm so sorry, but... I'm late and I-"

    Ophelia found herself smiling. "You don't need to ask to be excused from the table, Private Connors."

    He put on his hat and tipped it towards her. "Thank you, Miss Stroud."

    He rushed out of the house without another word.