#( 𝑶𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓 ; threads (( Hewlett ))

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( E.dmund H.ewlett ; continued )

        𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞. It was her eyes that held it the most and he looked onward with a frown pulling on his lips as she moved to the bed, sinking into the cot as if she hadn't had a chance to sit down in months.

        His inquiry was a soft one, a touch above a whisper but not high enough to extinguish a candle’s flame. At first, he assumed maybe it was a consequence of Richard nagging her again that made her look so beaten down, but then he realized from her attire that it was another matter entirely. She wasn’t dressed in her fine gowns, a few skinny wisps of hair were loosened from her pinned-up hair, and her hands were redder than usual. Then, his accusatory thoughts pointed to another man.

        ❝ Is it Simcoe? ❞

        He drew away from the loosened clothing chest and crossed the bedroom floor, allowing his body to sink into a spot next to her on the bed. He didn’t reach out to touch her even if he wanted nothing more than to cradle her face, push back the strands of hair, and really behold her. He feared that if he touched her, she would shatter like glass. ❝ Has he… has he visited you? Simcoe? ❞ Edmund couldn’t dial back the way his voice quickened at the mere thought of it. He could imagine Simcoe standing in her doorway, ordering her to stay put and not return to Whitehall. To him. Edmund knew that John was capable of killing DeJong or anyone he wanted to get to corner what he desired most. With his men trying to control the town under Hewlett’s hold, the killing of DeJong would be nothing more than an accident. A man like him was destined to have enemies, he could hear his shrill voice in the night.

        A relieved sigh left his lips at the fact DeJong was very much still alive. Not so much for his sake, but for Anna’s. Even if the tavern belonged to DeJong now, it was still a relief that Anna still had her position in his tavern with the tensions brewing in town upon the devil in green’s return. It was until Edmund noticed she was looking at him that her inquiry reached him.

        ❝ I’m fine, thank you. ❞ His voice softened then and he got to his feet, extending a hand if she needed help to stand. ❝ Aberdeen should still be in the kitchen at this hour. She should be able to make a meal for you there. Please, Anna, you can’t go to bed on an empty stomach. ❞

@annastrxng

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( E.dmund H.ewlett ; closed starter )

      𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲, but feeling of curiosity triumphed over any need or want for rest. It was John Andre who requested him to visit him personally after all and it was unlike Hewlett to deny his superiors. Especially if it was Andre, there had to be something important for his sudden appearance.

      He was allowed in from the front door and wandered down the hallway until he came across two opened doors leading to his office. As he peeked inside, clasping his hands behind his back, he formed a polite smile on his face when his eyes landed on the Major.

       ❝ Ah, Major Andre. Apologies that I couldn’t have arrived here sooner, the weather conditions in Setauket had postponed my trip by a day. ❞ He stepped inside the room, still maintaining his formal, upright stance of keeping his hands behind him to give him his full attention. ❝ If I may inquire without sounding insolent, what was the reasoning for my summoning? ❞

@mamuac​​

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( E.dmund H.ewlett ; continued )

        𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧. He almost wrinkled his nose, but had the sense to stop himself before he could. His confidence was moving, and he could respect it to some degree, but Edmund knew to keep his mouth shut and his expression blank when it came to his own personal thoughts. They were not needed and surely wouldn’t serve him if he made them known. 

        He was at the top, that was true, but Edmund figured he was just as clever. Perhaps his mother’s teachings of humility were too harsh that they clouded his thoughts. But the way he looked him up and down and simply shrugs--as if to dismiss him--diminishes any morsel of empathy.

        But his dismissive nature of Simcoe being the culprit finally invokes a reaction from him: in words and expression. His brows furrow and he squints his eyes before shaking his head, dismissive and confused in his own way. ❝ The Magistrate's son? How can you be certain that Mr. Woodhull had any role in recent events? ❞ At least, they could agree on their distaste for Simcoe, but wasn’t he the obvious culprit? Until Simcoe came around, even amidst the rising tension of war, Setauket had been peaceful. It seemed that with his entrance, the town had taken a toll for the worse. 

@audaciiae

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( E.dmund H.ewlett ; continued )

“I wish I would’ve told you the truth sooner…” But that was a lie; in fact, Patience’s hope was that her own deceit would never be known. In her search for the truth, to pass information along for the Cause, the very last thought at the forefront of her mind was falling into her current position and marrying one of the King’s officers, her decision motivated just as much for intelligence as it was for keeping Edmund alive for the duration of the war and thereafrer. Victory or defeat, it didn’t matter. In victory, she would protect him, and in defeat, he would protect her, even if he was unaware he was doing so altogether.

When he refused to look her head on, Patience found her own focus shifting toward the floorboards, her eyes tracing the shapes of the swirls and knots in the wood, trying to ease the nausea, the guilt tightening in her throat, her gut.

It was the Lord’s will she had ever fled England and found her way back home to the colonies. In her mind, she’d been living on borrowed time, and perhaps this was always fated to be for her all along; hanged as a traitor by the very man she hated she loved.

I wish you would’ve told me sooner, too, Mrs. Wright.

“I wish I would’ve told you the truth sooner…” But that was a lie; in fact, Patience’s hope was that her own deceit would never be known. In her search for the truth, to pass information along for the Cause, the very last thought at the forefront of her mind was falling into her current position and marrying one of the King’s officers, her decision motivated just as much for intelligence as it was for keeping Edmund alive for the duration of the war and thereafrer. Victory or defeat, it didn’t matter. In victory, she would protect him, and in defeat, he would protect her, even if he was unaware he was doing so altogether.

When he refused to look her head on, Patience found her own focus shifting toward the floorboards, her eyes tracing the shapes of the swirls and knots in the wood, trying to ease the nausea, the guilt tightening in her throat, her gut.

It was the Lord’s will she had ever fled England and found her way back home to the colonies. In her mind, she’d been living on borrowed time, and perhaps this was always fated to be for her all along; hanged as a traitor by the very man she hated she loved.

I wish you would’ve told me sooner, too, Mrs. Wright.

Her gaze flickered back to his. “Mrs. Hewlett.” She corrected softly, the absence of her new name causing her to feel hollow. “That part was never a lie.”

Her gaze flickered back to his. “Mrs. Hewlett.” She corrected softly, the absence of her new name causing her to feel hollow. “That part was never a lie.”

       𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫, 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞) 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 “𝐇𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭” 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬. He found his gaze drawn to her lips--the same lips he kissed this morning--yet his grief kept him from walking across the room toward her. He had almost given his last name away once, but perhaps it was God’s generosity to not allow it to finalize, but what was there to say for Patience? She still clung to his last name for whatever reason. Was this all God’s test for him? He never pictured God to be so cruel in the trials and tribulations he gave his children.

       ❝ Forgive me for harboring doubt, ❞ he finally replied with his voice tight, almost letting her first name slip from his lips but the dryness of his tongue kept him from doing so. So, marrying him was never a lie, so ❝ Why? ❞ Why marry me? Why betray me? Why do this to me? To us? Why bother? He had millions of questions and yet, he could only ask this. He had led himself down a path of disappointment and heartbreak already, so what more could be done to mend his heart? If this was going to be a constant pattern in his life, he wanted to find out why it had to be him.

       He never once questioned Patience’s loyalty to the King. He found interest in her religion, in her life before the war, of her departed husband, but what truly connected them was their shared passion for the arts. He wondered now if that mutual interest between them was genuine or if it was all to lure him in. He set the envelope in his hands to the side and cupped his hands behind his back.

      ❝ If you’re planning on lying to me, be honest with me just this once: how long have you been a spy for Washington? ❞ How long has she been playing him for a fool?

@retrograderesemblance​

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( Edmund Hewlett ; continued )

“Do you mean because you haven’t turned me in?” Ben softly asked. “I’m sure there are plenty on your side who’d love to see me hanged for treason.”

It was funny, he thought, how a mere year ago, he would’ve written Hewlett off as scum – as a cold-hearted monster lacking principle, humanity, and a love of free will – and yet now, the lines between both sides had been blurred, sharpened, and re-blurred far too many times for him to count. Anna was one of the first to try and make him realize this, but it wasn’t until Sarah that Ben fully understood her meaning.

Had their circumstances been any different – had there been no war, no bloodshed, no stealing, lying, nor hatred – Ben knew in his heart that he would’ve liked Hewlett from the very beginning. He was a man of integrity, science, and the written word; someone who Ben would’ve gladly studied with and debated varying topics. But because he wore red and Ben wore blue, there would always be a slight rift – a grudging disdain and an argument just waiting to be unhatched. That was why, he supposed, he was so startled by the major’s admission.

“Anna was right,” Ben finally offered, keeping his gaze out on the horizon. “One’s leanings don’t make them evil – misguided, perhaps, but who’s to say which side God truly favors? As much as I’ve referred to scripture over the years, and how He seems to favor the underdog, I cannot presume to put words in His mouth.”

Ben certainly didn’t believe Hewlett’s king spoke for nor was appointed by God, but after meeting many normal people – good people – on the other side, he could no longer in good conscience claim that vanquishing them was His will.

Exhaling, Ben turned away from the sight and looked at Hewlett. “I know we’re working together in secret, but should I be captured and tried, I want you to know that your involvement will die with me. And, if at all possible, I would prefer that you preside over any such execution.”

       ❝ The Holy Writ says that instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others. ❞ Ben Tallmadge was not a fool with his statement. The new Head of Intelligence could count on his hand with no second thought of every officer and superior who would prefer for Edmund to report this meeting with the Major than to encourage it. But Ben’s neck wasn’t the only eligible participant for the noose. If Edmund’s own false intelligence was to be found out and proven and if this connection to Tallmadge was to be rooted out, he would face the same fate. Both of them were on the line but Edmund thought the desired outcome outweighed the danger they faced.

       ❝ This isn’t just Loyalist and Patriot squabble anymore, this is far more than just us. ❞ This mission was for humanity’s sake or at least anyone connected to Simcoe and any who have the potential to be a victim to his warpath. It wasn’t just Edmund’s future that was going to be sealed, but countless others. The whole British Army could make do without a menace like Simcoe to bloody its name any longer.

      When the name Anna leaves his lips, Edmund‘s mood sours with the way his throat tightens and his heart swells with the small amount of hope left in it. He wanted to be done with Mrs. Strong entirely, forget all about his life in Setauket, and sell off Abe’s gift of Whitehall the first chance he got to make a new life somewhere else, but her name still struck at his weak points. It wasn’t fair and he hoped Ben would avoid the name, but perhaps Anna didn’t tell him everything about the Oyster Major. For his sake, he hoped.

      He managed to keep a listening ear on Ben’s next words despite Anna’s name circling around in his mind like a closed container of bees seeking an escape. Edmund still believed that the King was appointed by God but similar to Ben, he sobered to the idea that not all Patriots were evil. Yes, a side was chosen and stuck with, it’s one’s own burden, but there were shades of gray and people still within that disagreed group.  ❝ I’ve found that there are more cold-hearted and detached fiends in one’s own faction that outweighs that seen in the enemy. ❞

      Ben’s own distracted gaze didn’t offend him in the slightest. He noticed that in the beginning how his own eyes shifted glances here and there when it was all too apparent that he was making a deal with the enemy. The same man that housed all of Setauket’s people in Anna’s tavern, but was also the same man to offer peace and surrender to the prisoners inside Edmund’s garrison. When Ben finally looked at him, it intensified his next statement, and he was slow to reply again. Ben was not damning himself now, was he? Did he assume his end was near? If Ben was to go, Hewlett didn’t know how he would continue his service to the ring and he would never really understand Ben as much as he would like to. Could he? Even now?

       ❝ As the Head of Intelligence, I can only sway opinions so much. If it was the case that you are found to be a spy and tried, I would do all I can to make your final days peaceful as much as I can allow. ❞ That would be quite the predicament. He could only direct things so much without suspicion and he doubted his word would hold much water with his damned reputation, given the Head of Intelligence almost out of pity. It was not the respected position it once was under the command of John Andre and it died with him in that Patriot camp. Would the ring die with Ben? Would his dealings with the ring die with him? Or would Abraham take his place?

      Edmund found himself believing that Ben’s death would only spur his interest in the Culper Spy Ring and seeing through to the end of their shared goal.

       ❝ This secret dies with me, ❞ he parroted his words, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile until it fell after a few moments. His eyes lifted from where they centered on Ben’s shoes to look at him with a new thought in mind. ❝ For curiosity's sake, how do you think Washington would feel if he knew I was involved? Not me, specifically, but a redcoat, a loyalist. ❞  And Anna.

@honorhearted​

[shxrp-teeth-after-dark]

( E.dmund H.ewlett ; continued )

@retrograderesemblance

      𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝’𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬, his hand laid on his thigh. He was staring at her, but it wasn’t intentional. Fatigue swept over his eyes and if the woman he hired stayed quiet, he would’ve shut his eyes and knocked off a few minutes of sleep. Lynn, that’s what her name was. Lynn. She wasn’t some woman that blended in the crowd of usual faces. Her job might not be respectable, but Edmund still felt tied to his gentlemanly manners and wished to call her by a name than leave her unidentifiable in his mind. She had a name and deserved to be addressed by it, regardless of her profession. 

      As his heart slowed back to its regular rhythm and momentum, he realized the hollow emptiness in his chest didn’t dispel as he wanted it to. It’s what made him come here and seek out her service, thinking this momentary pleasure would rid him of this turmoil even if he went astray from his religious beliefs. It was a foolish idea to think this would be the solution and he felt more guilty than before. He swore he could feel God’s pointed glare from the heavens.

      His eyes lowered for a moment, breathing in and out to quell his mind until her soft voice pulled him back to the current moment. Disappointed in her? He wished to laugh at the very idea of it.

       ❝ No. Hardly. ❞ He shifted on the bed. His nervousness was mostly absent, but he still felt uncomfortable around this new presence. She saw the most personal part of him and while he was a simple face in a crowd of many, forgettable in her line of work, he still felt conscience over that fact. ❝ You satisfied me. ❞ A blush crept up on his cheeks as he wished to not directly point out the way his ardor was on her face. He smiled a little and quickly that smile erased into a thin line. ❝ Have you ever gotten your heart broken by someone? A loved one perhaps? ❞