The Promise Page 19

  “It is only for three months, Father. A Carson can survive anything for three months and perhaps the war will end soon.”

  “It has not ended these four years.”

  “The Colonial Army is in need of me. I am a fine marksman, or so Uncle Caleb says, and what the militia needs most is experienced marks­men.”

  Uriah stood up, crossed the room to the table, removed the stopper from the bottle of rum and poured two short glasses. He handed John the first drink of spirits he had ever allowed him. “We will say nothing of this affair to your Mother until morning. She has yet another lively array of company to amuse and I will not deprive her.”

  “Agreed. Then you will tell her?”

  “Aye, it is mine to tell her.”

  “Papa, you need not be so concerned. I do not intend to die in a war I hardly under­stand and see no need of. I will be cautious and return the instant I am re­lieved of my draft.”

  To his father’s amazement, John downed the rum, grinned and set the empty glass on the table. “You will excuse me, Father. I have missed my mother these weeks and intend to vastly enjoy this particular ball.”

  The pink of her low cut silk gown and the small shiny stones intertwined in her dark hair brought out the bril­liance of her blue eyes. As soon as she was relieved of her match­ing cloak just inside Mahala's assembly room, she painstakingly straightened each wrinkle in her long white gloves before she looked up. The first face she saw was Uriah's. “Allow me to apologize for the lateness of our arrival, Mister Carson,” Hester Wade said. “We were detained by Redcoats.”

  “Detained?” Uriah asked. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  Behind her, Hester's father chuckled, “I fear their attentions were paid more to my daughter's beauty, than to any pressing matter of business.”

  “I can well believe that.” Uriah bowed and then offered his arm to Hester, “Please, allow me to introduce you to some of our society.”

  “My dear,” Mary said, gently grabbing his other arm, “I do believe the Dunlops have arrived and completely on schedule, as they are the last. Therefore, it is not yet time to entertain any one particular guest.”

  “You are quite right, Mrs. Carson. Still, I hardly think you would wish this poor young lady to wander completely un­attended amid all these uncivilized men. What will you think of me?”

  “Uncivilized, are they? I see. Well then, I insist you protect her as best you can. And my dear,” Mary said as he again offered his arm to Hester, “we will be discussing this later.”

  “Will it be a lively discussion?”

  “Quite lively.”

  “Then, my love,” he said, kissing her on the cheek, “I greatly anticipate it.”

  Hester and her father both laughed.

  From the second step of the staircase not far from the Baron's vine-covered statue, John watched over the heads of the dancing couples as his parents greeted Hester. “Do you know who she is?”

  “Who?” Adam asked, climbing to a higher step.

  “That one, the one on my father's arm. Isn’t she the one in the carriage we saw in town?”

  “I have never seen that one before,” answered Adam. “And may I say, you are the only man I know who can be nearly killed by a carriage, yet still see the woman inside. John, I have heard that General Washington is requesting...”

  “And may I say, you speak of nothing but women when we are alone, yet in a room full of them, you pay no attention and speak of nothing but war.”

  “Why should I give them my attention? They make my acquaintance merely to make yours. I wait for the one who rejects you, for she will be quite remarkable.”

  “I find this one quite remarkable. See how her smile is warm, yet guarded. Her man­ners are impec­cable and when she looks at me, which has been but twice, she does not quickly glance away as other women do.”

  Mary joined them, “Well, Adam, where did you go earlier?”

  “I rushed home to plow a field, feed the animals, clean the barn, play cards with my sister, and kiss my mother on the cheek.”

  Mary laughed. “In the space of an hour and without soiling your clothing?”

  “Oh no, Mrs. Carson, I could never get soiled.”

  His mother looped her arm through John's and followed his gaze. “She is divine, is she not? I cannot decide which finds her most intriguing, Matthew or your father.”

  “Divine? I could hardly call her divine, Mother. I will grant you she is tolerable, but divine she most assuredly is not.”

  “I cannot believe it! Do you not know a lovely woman when you see one?”

  “Aye, lovely I have seen often, but this one is not to be compared with those. Do you see how she smiles? Her mouth is crooked and she displays her teeth far too often for my liking? In fact, she is quite ill-favored.”

  “Ill-favored? My beloved son, I fear you have lost all reason. Is that what you are taught at William and Mary College?”

  “Mother, see how her curtsy is far too conspicuous, and how she knows not what to do with her unen­cumbered hand. Surely, you do not expect me to stand up with one such as this. No doubt she has a horrid name, such as Twila or Phoebe. And her husband, well...”

  Mary smiled and nodded at a passing couple, then glared at her son. “Her name is Hester and with her, is her father. I assure you, no other man thinks she is ill-favored.”

  “I suppose you want me to be gentlemanly toward her. And so I will, if it pleases you, Mother. But I must wonder why my find­ing her ill-favored is important to you? What are you up to, Mama? Is this another of your jokes?”

  “Not everything is one of my jokes,” Mary said through gritted teeth.

  “I do not trust her appearance, you see. Perhaps you have altered it. Perhaps her beauty is a mask for just this occasion and in the light of day, she will look more like Mister Cook's mule.”

  “I assure you, my beloved son, she is just as you see. And do lower your voice, your father brings her near and I demand you be civil. After all, she is a guest.”

  “Done. I would never wish to displease you. But if she begins to dissipate while we dance...”

  “John please...”

  “Hester,” John said, just as Uriah opened his mouth to introduce her. “How glorious it is to see you again. May I have the honor of this dance?” He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her to the middle of the room.

  Uriah looked suspiciously at his wife, “Where did your son learn such eloquent manners with the ladies?”

  Mary laughed, “I believe it was you who taught him?”

  “I do apologize for my boldness, Miss Wade,” John said, dropping her hand, quickly grabbing two drinks off the server's tray and handing her one. “But as the occasion to shock my parents pre­sented itself, I simply could not resist.”

  “Please do not apologize, Mister Carson. I have heard much of your family's humor.”

  “You are English?”

  “We are. I was born in Kent, though we came away when I was quite small.”

  “Have you a residence nearby?”

  “We do, we live not half a mile to the east. My Papa took the property two months past.”

  He took her elbow and moved her out of the way of the dancing couples. “In the Osborn place? I know it well. I often played there as a child. I particularly remember...”

  “Oh, there you are my boy,” Matthew interrupted. “I have explicit permission from your parents to relieve Miss Wade of your tedious company and introduce her to more of our acquaintances. Come along my dear,” he said, offering his arm. Hester handed John the unfinished drink, took Matthew's arm and walked away.

  “Tedious company?” John mumbled.

  AT NEARLY SEVENTY, Matthew grew tired soon after he escorted Hester back to her father. Happy to sit down next to Caleb, he listened to the lively music, looked at the flow­ers and the pretty girls in their finest gowns, then grinned when Caleb handed him a glass of hard-to-find Madeira wine. “They are different faces my boy. I
hardly remember any of these from the first ball at Mahala.”

  “Indeed they are.”

  “And Mahala has changed greatly as well. She has new roads, more corrals, more horses, many more ladies to tend, and I daresay, taller trees.”

  Caleb agreed, “Many more ladies and much taller trees.”

  “And Maralee and Roselee are now sixteen, you say?”

  “They are.”

  “Is that Seth who dances with your eldest?”

  “Aye, it is Seth.”

  “Has the boy not danced with each two or three times already?”

  Caleb nodded, “And more if they would let him. I admire his perseverance. He does not seem to mind their inattention so long as he can be in their presence, and he is not at all sure which he prefers.”

  “Perhaps he waits to see which will prefer him?”

  Both men watched as John walked to the beautiful Hester Wade.

  “Miss Wade, I would be honored if...”

  “Excuse us, John,” Adam interrupted, “I believe Miss Wade has promised the next two, or I daresay three, to me.”

  Hester shrugged, took Adam's arm and walked away.

  IN AN UPSTAIRS BEDCHAMBER near the front of the house, Caroline kissed her mother's cheek, tucked the blanket around her shoulders, and then lightly touched her snow white hair. “Good night, Mama.” she whispered. But Etta was already asleep. Caroline blew out the candle and closed the door behind her.

  “Will the music wake her?” Mary asked, waiting on the balcony outside the door.

  Caroline giggled, “I doubt even the war could keep her from her sleep. How will I ever repay you for taking them?”

  “We love them too, you know,” Mary answered, as they moved to the rail to watch the dancing below.

  “I cannot be sure how long I will need to leave them here, or when I can return. I must tend to father's business or there will be nothing left.”

  “Do not fret; they will be fine with us. And we would love keeping you and little Matthew here as well until this dreadful war is over.”

  “I would dearly love to stay. I must warn you, Papa has seen so much of the death, he cries out in his sleep. Mama hardly remembers the war on most days. I count that a blessing.”

  “Any news of Alfred?”

  “Not a word. I believe he must be dead. Mary, would you think ill of me if I were not so very devastated?”

  “Have I heard that question before?”

  Caroline laughed, “I believe you have. However, I did love this husband a bit more than poor LeRoy. I cannot think what is the mat­ter with me.”

  “Well, I find you without fault. If you do not love them, the blame is their's. You will find a third husband.”

  “And how will I do that? I cannot be sure Alfred is dead, I dread enduring the courtship of yet a third man and my chances of securing another husband diminish with each new casualty of the war.”

  “I hardly think you need a husband if you do not desire one.”

  “Aye, then I will become old and crotchety just like your Lady Phillips.”

  “Lady Phillips,” Mary repeated. “Now there's a name I have not heard in years. I do think of her occasionally, but by now she must have passed.”

  “Did you ever hear from her?”

  “No.”

  JOHN SLOWLY TOOK A deep breath and got out of the Baron's huge hand-carved chair with its tucked red cushion. Hester was less than three feet away. Cautiously, he searched the room for the members of his family, waited until Hester looked at him, and then nodded his head toward the dancing couples. She nodded back. John stretched out his hand and watched her eyes as she reached her hand toward him.

  “Your Mother has need of you,” Uriah said, grabbing his son's arm from behind.

  “MARY,” URIAH BEGAN after he had blown out the last candle in their bedchamber and slipped into bed beside her. “I am quite enchanted. As hard as I tried, I did not discover your joke.”

  “Indeed you did not,” Mary said, snuggling close as he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Tell me then.”

  “I think not. I have attempted in vain all these years to keep you from discovering my jokes and I find this night has brought me great satisfac­tion.”

  “Of this much I am certain. Keeping John from dancing with Miss Wade was a joke we shared. So if that was not your intended joke, what was?”

  Mary lightly kissed his neck. “I won’t tell you.”

  “Then I will not let you sleep until you do.”

  “Oh, if you insist upon it. The joke was – there was no joke. All of you have become so sus­picious that I decided to play no joke at all. It was delightful, however, watching all of you try to figure it out.”

  “You have outwitted me.”

  “At last,” she sighed. “I will sleep quite contentedly in that knowledge.” She sighed, snuggled a little closer and then mumbled, “About Miss Wade.”

  “I was afraid you might mention that. You cannot doubt my devotion after all these years. Besides, she is but a child.”

  “True. Shall we discuss that other matter then?”

  “What other matter?”

  “Did you truly believe I would not hear about the poster?”

  “Oh, Mary, I hoped you would not hear until after the ball. I intended to tell you in the morning.”

  “I know, John told me. I love you dearly for trying to protect me, but I cannot let you lay awake for hours trying to decide how to tell me.”

  He lifted her chin and kissed her. “Did he tell you it will only be three months?”

  “Aye, only three months.”

  MARY ASKED HIM TO RUN an errand in town, so in the morning, John mounted and rode his horse down the lane. Inside the large fenced corrals on either side, horses grazed on the lush green grass. Just as he turned the corner toward Richmond, he spotted her, “Miss Wade, I had not expected to see you this morning,” he said, stopping his horse and quickly dismount­ing. “I hope you found last night's ball to your liking.”

  “Hester smiled, “I liked it very much.”

  “I fully in­tended to dance with you, but as you may have noticed, my parents were committed to making it impossible.”

  “Indeed they were. Is your family always like that?”

  “Often, they are worse.”

  “Then, I hope we will be invited again.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. My parents think you are delightful and delightful is all that is required to get repeated invitations to the Carson balls. Where are you off to so early this morning?”

  “I have accepted a teaching position,” she answered. “And for that rea­son, I regret I must not tarry or I will arrive late on my first day.”

  “But you are on foot. It is not far, I hope.”

  “No, not far.” She looked up at him, curtsied, and hurried away.

  The brilliance of her eyes captivated him. He got back on his horse and watched her walk down the road, round the fence and turn up the lane toward Mahala. “Thank you, Mother, you have just given me even more reason to come home from the war.”

  Two days later, the whole Carson family, including the Hendersons and Hester Wyley, stood on the back veranda and waved goodbye. John rode off to war on one of his father’s best horses.

  Then the waiting began.

  HIS MUSKET IN HAND and a powder horn over his shoulder, Uriah kept well back as he followed Mary up the path. A gentle breeze rustled the yellow and red leaves of fall, but she didn't seem to notice. Nor did she stop on the top of the small hill to admire the beauty of the river and the land. When she reached the falls, she sat down, drew her knees up and wrapped her cloak tightly around her legs. Then she cried. She cried until her body heaved and when she lifted her eyes to the heavens, she cried out.

  Uriah could take no more. He climbed up beside her, laid down his musket, and drew her to him.

  “I did not want you to see me cry,” she sobbed.

  “I know. You grieve for our
son?”

  She tried to wipe more tears away, “It has been four months and we hear nothing. We know only that he was to report to Chesterfield.”

  “I have often been tempted to find him and bring him home.”

  Mary wiggled out of his arms, her eyes suddenly brighter. “Yes, find him and bring him home.”

  “Oh, Mary, I would like nothing better. But think, how would John like it? Our son is a man now and a man cannot be put upon to return from war simply to dry the tears of his mother. Besides, if he were to leave without first be­ing released, he would be called a deserter. We must wait, there is no other choice.”

  Mary bit her bottom lip. “I am so very tormented. I think of nothing but him, and I find it annoying that all, save you, seem not to even notice his absence. My own sister does not share in my anguish.”

  “My love, they attempt to be strong for your benefit, but I have seen them when you are not watching. The eldest twins keep a jour­nal in their bedchamber, in which they tell him every­thing we say and do. Caleb works hard to find something to build or repair, but he often forgets what he started. As for Elizabeth, I believe you have misjudged her the most.”

  “How so?”

  “In the book room,” he said, encouraging her to lay her head against him, “you will find a particular book resting on the table. It is the same one she was reading the day John left and she has not even turned the page. She has cared for him since birth, she loves him and she cannot concentrate on her reading.

  When we first settled at Mahala,” he continued, “I thought she and Caleb would grow weary of our company. But when they did not mention it, I pondered the situation. It is John, you see. They cannot bear to be without him.”

  Mary remained in his comforting arms and watched the water falls until her tears finally stopped. “Are you very upset that I did not give you more children?”

  “Not in the least. Had you given me daughters, I would be as daft as Caleb. The poor man spends every waking hour trying to keep track of them, and the eldest, well, he cannot think how to keep the men away.”