@templetonpeckcangetit
Ben felt like a damned fool. Despite the rumors about Arnold, he’d never once believed Benedict would fall prey to greed, nor that he would be so quick to betray his country. And yet here it was...actual proof in his hands. Within the contents of this letter, Arnold had praised Ben and pleaded with him to see reason -- to join him in aiding the British cause.
On impulse, Ben had nearly torn the letter to shreds. The unpatriotic sentiments infuriated him unlike any other, especially after what he and his family and friends had sacrificed, yet thankfully, his rage had abated and a new plan began to form. He could use this -- he could capitalize off this by playing both sides. Arnold had never been privy to his full services for the Ring, so he could easily direct all of his attentions into gleaning intel from the Arnolds. At the end of his letter, Benedict had invited Ben to speak about an alliance, so that was exactly what he was in town to do.
Tread lightly, he thought. Don’t go in with arms swinging.
No matter how hard Ben wished to throttle Arnold, for the sake of the Cause, he knew he needed to keep an even temperament. To further aid in his ruse, he’d also foregone his uniform in favor of civilian clothes. He brushed his damp palms against his breeches, then lifted a hand and rapped against the door to the Arnold abode.
After a few moments, the door opened and Abigail was the one to open the door. Ben tried to keep his face even as he greeted, “Good afternoon. I’m here to see General Arnold, please.”
Abigail’s eyes briefly flickered over her shoulder, then she said, “Apologies, sir, but General Arnold isn’t in at the moment. Mrs. Arnold, however, said to be expecting you.”
Mrs. Arnold?
Bemused, Ben blinked back at the servant in confusion. That couldn’t be right. Why would Benedict have informed his wife? Surely she wasn’t to be involved?
Abigail stepped back to allow him entry, so slowly, Ben removed his hat and crossed the parquet floors with purpose. Even if Peggy wasn’t the person he was slated to see, he was not blind to the potential there, as well. She presently sat in the sitting room, beautiful and poised as ever, and Ben drew his arm over his chest in a slight bow.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Arnold,” he greeted. “Congratulations on your marriage. I imagine you must be thrilled.”
