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“What do they do in there?” he asked, curious. “Is it a great meetinghouse?”
“It is,” she said. “But there is also business to be done, thee knows. The yearly meetings deal with matters of … I suppose thee would call it principle. We call it Faith and Practice; there are books, rewritten every so often, to reflect the present sense of the meeting. And queries.” She smiled suddenly, and his heart gave a small extra thump. “I think thee would recognize the queries—they’re much like thee has described the examination of conscience before thy confession.”
“Och, aye,” he said agreeably, but declined to pursue the subject. He hadn’t been to confession in some years and didn’t feel sufficiently wicked at present to trouble about it. “This Faith and Practice—is that where they say ye mustn’t join the Continental army, even if ye di
He was immediately sorry he’d asked; the question dimmed the light in her eyes, but only momentarily. She drew a deep breath through her nose and looked up at him.
“No, that would be an opinion—a formal opinion. Friends talk over every possible point of consideration before they give an opinion—whether it’s a positive one or not.” There was the barest hesitation before “not,” but he heard it and, reaching out, pulled out her hatpin, gently straightened her straw hat, which had slid a little askew, and pushed the pin back in.
“And if in the end it’s not, and we ca
Her lips pressed together, but she met his eyes straight on.
“Friends are not married by their meeting. Or by priest or preacher. They marry each other. And we will marry each other.” She swallowed. “Somehow.”
The small bubbles of misgiving that had been rising through his wame all morning began to pop, and he put a hand over his mouth to stifle a belch. Being nervous took him in the i
Denzell was dressed in the uniform of a Continental soldier and looked self-conscious as a hunting dog with a bow tied round its neck. Ian suppressed his amusement, though, merely nodding as his future brother-in-law drew to a stop before them. De
“Is he not beautiful?” Dottie crowed, standing back a little to admire him. Denzell coughed and pushed his spectacles up his nose. He was a tidy man, not over-tall, but broad in the shoulder and strong in the forearm. He did look fine in the uniform, Ian thought, and said so.
“I will try not to let my appearance engorge my vanity,” Denzell said dryly. “Is thee not also to be a soldier, Ian?”
Ian shook his head, smiling.
“Nay, De
“I expect thee would be.” A certain tenseness in De
“No, we’ve our choice about it,” Ian assured him, straight-faced. “We can kill them if we like—but just for the fun of it, ken. It doesna really count.”
Denzell blinked for an instant at that, but Rachel and Dottie both laughed, and he reluctantly smiled.
“Thee is late, De
“Thee might say so,” Dottie said, “but not from any physical ill.” The look of amusement faded from her face, though a faint gleam still lingered in her eyes. “He is in love with Mercy Woodcock.”
“His landlady? Love’s no usually a fatal condition, is it?” Ian asked, raising one brow.
“Not if thy name is neither Montague nor Capulet,” De
“And until she finds out he’s dead …” Dottie added, lifting one slim shoulder.
“Or alive,” De
“Not much of one,” Dottie replied bluntly. “Auntie—I mean Friend—Claire doctored a man called Walter Woodcock who’d been badly wounded at Ticonderoga, and she said he was near death then and taken p-prisoner.” She stumbled slightly on the last word, and Ian was reminded suddenly that her eldest brother, Benjamin, was a prisoner of war.
Denzell saw the cloud cross her face and gently took her hand in his.
“Both thy brothers will survive their trials,” he said, and warmth touched his eyes behind the glass. “So will we, Dorothea. Men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them—but not for love.”
“Hmph!” said Dottie, but gave him a small, grudging smile. “All right, then—go ahead. There’s such a lot to do before we go.”
To Ian’s surprise, Denzell nodded, took a folded sheaf of papers from his bosom, and, turning, went up the step to the door of the meetinghouse.
Ian had supposed the place was only a convenient spot to meet—he would be catching up his uncle and Auntie Claire on the road to Coryell’s Ferry but had lingered to help with the loading, for De
Was he seeking advice in how to be married as a Quaker even while flouting their … what would you call it, edict—no, Rachel had said it was an opinion, but a “weighty” opinion—regarding support of the rebellion?
“He’s giving them his witness—his testimony,” Dottie said matter-of-factly, seeing the puzzlement in Ian’s face. “He wrote it all out. Why he thinks it’s right to do what he’s doing. He’s going to give it to the clerk of the yearly meeting and request that his views be mentioned and discussed.”
“D’ye think they will?”
“Oh, yes,” Rachel said. “They may disagree with him, but they won’t stifle him. And good luck to them if they thought to try,” she added, half under her breath. She pulled a handkerchief out of her bosom, very white against the soft brown of her skin, and patted tiny droplets of sweat away from her temples.
Ian felt a sudden and profound longing for her and glanced involuntarily toward the clock tower. He’d need to be on the road soon and hoped there’d be time for a precious hour alone with Rachel first.
Dorothea’s eyes were still fixed on the door through which De
“He is so lovely,” she said softly, as though to herself. Then glanced self-consciously at Rachel. “He felt badly for wearing his uniform to see Henry,” she said, a tone of apology in her voice. “But the time was so short …”
“Was thy brother upset?” Rachel asked sympathetically. Dottie’s brows drew down.
“Well, he didn’t like it,” she said frankly. “But it’s not as though he didn’t know that we’re Rebels; I told him some time ago.” Her expression relaxed a little. “And he is my brother. He won’t disown me.”
Ian wondered whether the same was true of her father, but didn’t ask. She hadn’t mentioned the duke. He wasn’t really attending to Dottie’s family concerns, though—his mind was busy with thought of the coming battle and all that needed to be done immediately. Ian caught Rachel’s eye and smiled, and she smiled back, all worry melting from her face as she met his gaze.
He had concerns himself, certainly, a

UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE