"I didn't recall seeing anyone leave with it last night," Henri commented.

Startled, Nathaniel glanced up to find Henri leaning over the bar. He stood and wiped his hand across the bar top. Meeting Henri's gaze he warned, "If they come back, don't even look this way. We're lucky they weren't more adventurous in their exploration."

Henri nodded, still holding his gaze. "After what I've already seen of these British soldiers, I want nothing more than to ruin every action they seek to take."

Nathaniel was surprised by the hatred he heard in Henri's voice. Hadn't Henri been playing cards with several soldiers the previous night? 

"I don't seek to do them any harm or ruin," Nathaniel told him truthfully. "If they come seeking their own ruin, then I will give it. I will continue to take their money and serve them until they burn my house to the ground for their own amusement."

"How can you do both?" Henri asked.

Nathaniel smiled. "They already pay half as much more than any other man who comes here, and they haven't realized it yet. If they had, I'd already have been arrested for unfair pricing. That seemed a trivial concern I could eventually move past and worth the risk for the time being."

Henri laughed. "You surprise me. My sister should have written me more about you."

Nathaniel shook his head. "It's only because I'm not here of my own choice. Staying in Boston suits me best, and I can either sympathize with the country of my loveless father or with the more interesting crowd that stood by me last night and this morning." He suddenly remembered then that he still wore the stranger's cloak and unfastened it. "I'm sure he'll return tonight for it. He's here every night," he explained as he hung it on a peg beside the bar. "I want to see what they did to the kitchen and how Marie is fairing."

A great mess had been made of the kitchen. The fire was burning and the room was warm but Marie still wore Nathaniel's coat while she stood staring at the disorder around her. Shelves had been pushed bare of their contents, which now lay scattered across the floor. Broken dishes were everywhere underfoot. Flour was spilled across a table. Cooking herbs and spices had been tossed aside and those in glass jars had mostly shattered. A partial sack of green coffee beans had been overturned across the floor. A stack of wood near the door to the yard had been scattered all about the doorway. Whatever Marie had been cooking was turning black and smoking from the cook pot still over the fire. Other cooking dishes had found their way into every corner.

Nathaniel carefully removed the pot from the fire and put it outside in the snow, picking his way through the mess.

"Bastards!" Marie finally snarled, throwing a broken dish she'd been holding against the wall. It shattered into more pieces and she bent to pick up another piece of crockery.

Henri stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. "I know," he told her.

"I will destroy them," she declared.

Nathaniel sighed. "We might not be opening the coffeehouse today."

"We must," Marie argued, pulling away from Henri. "They can't have this victory. It's still safe? The gun?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Still hidden." He sighed again. "I'm afraid to see the storeroom."

Though the soldiers had moved the barrels and bottles Nathaniel had stored away, they hadn't done any damage other than apparently helping themselves to the open barrel, by the looks of the spill on the floor and the three used mugs tossed aside.

The upstairs was another issue. From all three rooms they used, clothes had been scattered everywhere, wash basins overturned, beds tossed. The unused rooms had been spared destruction by containing almost no furniture. Nothing had gone undisturbed, not even Marie's sewing box, despite being far too small for any weapon.

"I apologize," Nathaniel said to Henri as they stood in the room he'd chosen to use, his traveling bags open and their contents thrown about the room. Nathaniel was thankful he'd shown Henri a hidden place to keep his most valuable possessions and money, a place that had gone undiscovered in all three of their rooms. Why the previous owner had needed so many places to secure hidden items was not something Nathaniel chose to speculate about.

Henri turned to him. "Why do you apologize?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "They did this because of my actions."

"They did it because they have no decency," Henri replied. "Come, we have much to do for the coffeehouse to open."

It took all morning to clean the house and make it ready for the day's visitors. They had nearly finished when there was a knock on the door. A moment later Henri appeared in the doorway of Nathaniel's room, where Nathaniel had been attempting to right the mess that had been left for him.

"Is it more soldiers?" he asked, immediately concerned.

Henri smiled. "A boy from Mrs. Johnson."

Nathaniel's concern turned into surprise. "Thank you."

Henri followed him downstairs, where the boy was bringing a crate into the house. He set it down atop two others already beside the door.

"What is this?" Nathaniel asked.

"A few gifts from Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, sir," the boy replied. He offered a letter to him then. "They sent a note with it."

Nathaniel took the note and thanked him. After the boy went on his way, Nathaniel opened the letter.

Mr. Hill,

I took the liberty to send you some items I'm sure you may be needing after your visit this morning. If anything isn't needed, you may return it if you wish. We can settle our business with the items you do need when you next visit. Your friend, as well. I pray this displays to him the goodness of the people of Boston, despite the rudeness of the soldiers.

Though Nathaniel had been told it was from the Johnsons, he was surprised to see it wasn't signed. Perhaps they were concerned it would be intercepted and the shop harassed for assisting him.

"A kind woman," Henri commented when Nathaniel read him the letter.

Nathaniel nodded. "Thankfully her husband is as kind. It's his shop. She surely needed to convince him."

When they opened the boxes they found several new ceramic mugs to replace the shattered ones, plus more of the pewter ones Nathaniel also used. There was a full box of cooking herbs and spices, flour, and the sugar Nathaniel had gone to purchase. Another box held several blankets and, much to their amusement, the shoe buckles Henri had been looking at.

"A kind woman indeed," Henri laughed. "I had thought to go back for these very soon, before we left in such a rush."

"It appears she's given you the opportunity to make certain you like them before you pay her for them."

Henri smiled. "I suppose she has. They are the look I usually prefer. I'm certain I'll enjoy them." He took his items and went upstairs, still smiling, leaving Nathaniel alone with his thoughts as he unpacked and stored the new items. 

He could soon smell the rich aroma of Marie roasting the day's coffee and only then did he realize he hadn't gone for the coffee he'd ordered. They had enough for a few days, so he wasn't too concerned. He'd simply go the following day.

The actions of the Johnsons was nearly too much for Nathaniel to accept after all the events of the previous night and the morning. The show of support he'd received in the face of the British authority nearly overwhelmed him. He'd truly done nothing to deserve such support. He'd never acted against any form of authority and had no intention of actively doing so, aside from the unthinking response with the musket. Had that been enough to earn him such respect and support?

He'd been in the city the night the men had gotten onto the ships in the harbor and cast the tea overboard in December of 1773. Privately, he'd thought the men completely foolish and their actions far too destructive for the situation at hand. Publicly, he'd remained neutral whenever it was discussed. It was mostly a business choice that he'd already stopped offering tea in the house, not for any sense of dedication to the non-importation movements the outspoken people of the city were encouraging. He'd worried that being an Englishman not following the strongly suggested ban against tea would endanger his still-delicate financial position. He couldn't afford to lose so much business. Slowly, he realized, such actions had begun to change his mind about owing any lasting loyalty to the land where his hateful father made his home.

His private thoughts of the foolishness of those men had been confirmed when the governor was replaced with a general and soldiers arrived in force, taking over their daily life and closing the port. He supposed he should thank them for the added business now, but he no longer felt he could. Perhaps those men who had dumped the tea had truly had the correct idea and continuing as things had always been wasn't the best practice anymore, though their methods were too drastic and often violent for Nathaniel – he would have supported Marie without a rational thought even if she had been so handled by a group of Boston men and his reaction had been purely defensive. Or so he assured himself. He wasn't so certain the added business was worth the trouble it had brought to his door, even if the increased prices they didn't know they paid covered much of the increased cost of supplies.

Yet, he still felt it best not to put himself and his business in greater danger by seeking any way to resist the rule they were burdened with. There were no other avenues for him to take but the one of quiet, though unwilling, cooperation.