Broken Pledge Page 6

  “Papa, you did not.”

  Uriah rolled his eyes. “I merely wished to inform the Lewis family of our safe arrival.”

  John turned a wary eye first on his father and then on the postmaster, “Mister Keswick, have you any idea how long an express would take?”

  Keswick shrugged and once more pushed his glasses up. “Well, no, I’ve never sent a post to Kentucky before. A few weeks perhaps?”

  “More like a few months.”

  “But, John,” Keswick said, leaning closer, “he paid me handsomely.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “You need not speak as though I’m not here,” Uriah said, picking Sparky up before taking Keswick by the arm. “Come along, I’ll write the directions myself. Now, the best way is straight. True, a man must cross one range of mountains, then go left or right to find passage through the next, but...” he went on, his voice fading as he guided Keswick back across the street.

  With so many women wearing the black of mourning, John did not see her coming. Nor did he see Adam watching them.

  “Oh, so there you are, John Carson,” Hester Wyley suddenly said, walking right past him.

  “Hester, wait!” said he, rushing after her.

  “Not now, I’m quite late.” Before he could catch her, Hester darted into the cobbler shop and closed the door in his face.

  Taken aback, it was a moment or two before he realized Adam was standing right beside him. “I do believe she hates me.”

  “Hardly,” Adam chuckled. “When Rose wishes to avoid me, she goes out the backdoor.”

  Together, they hurried down the length of the building and peeked around the corner. Hester had already made it across the Widow Brown’s backyard and was lifting her skirt to climb into her uncle’s sleek black coach.

  “No doubt my wife taught her that,” Adam admitted, leaning against the wall of the cobbler shop.

  “Has my beloved cousin taught Hester all her tricks, do you think?”

  “I have no doubt whatsoever. They’ve been inseparable since you left and they’re up to something, to be sure. But John, Rose and Hester are the least of our concerns. It is the elder Mrs. Carson.”

  “Aunt Elizabeth, is she unwell?”

  Adam slipped his hand under his proper white wig and scratched his head. “She’s going mad. All will be completely calm and then her face turns red, she throws open every door and fans herself violently. Not twenty minutes later, she’s in tears complaining of the cold. I tell you, by day’s end, she’s exhausted us all and there is more. Yesterday, I said these words exactly, ‘Mama, you look splendid in pink.’ Can you guess what she said?”

  “What?”

  “‘You hate the blue one then!’ Off she went in an uproar, flying up the stairs to her bedchamber and slamming the door. Rose suspects it is ‘the change.’”

  “Oh my.”

  “Cousin John, I’ve taken to leaving a room the instant the woman enters.”

  John glanced across the street and spotted his father coming back. “Have they no tonic, no remedy?”

  “Not a one. The quandary, you see, is Maralee’s wedding. Rose fears Mama will take to her bed completely – or worse, kill someone.”

  “Rose might well be right. I’ve seen Aunt Elizabeth lively enough to kill.”

  “So have I,” Adam said, cocking his head slightly to peek at the ankles of two passing ladies.

  “Tell me, have you left your position, or has the Virginia Assembly thrown up their hands and surrendered?”

  “Recessed,” Adam answered, scratching his head again. Finally, he removed his wig altogether. “Overwrought at the news, I boldly say.”

  “What news?”

  “Have you not heard? Our debt to France for the war is five million pounds.”

  “Five...I am overwrought myself. How will we ever repay it?”

  “Can there be any other way? We will tax ourselves and no doubt more vigorously than the British.”

  “We have no money for taxes. All we have is land.” John paused to think for a moment. “You don’t think the French will demand the Kentucky Territory, do you?”

  “Great glory, man, speak softly – the French might hear you. On the other hand, we could give them New York. The British burned nearly all of that colony anyway. That reminds me,” Adam went on, “does Yorktown have a printing press the British neglected to smash?”

  Once more John searched the street for his father, and spotted him chatting with an elderly lady. “Aye, but in need of repair the same as Richmond’s. The printer awaits both parts and paper from London.”

  “My kingdom for a press,” Adam sighed. “I’ve nearly worked my fingers to the bone copying notices to all thirteen states.”

  “Take heart, the British have suffered the same six years of war, and need our furs, lumber and tobacco. The ships will return.”

  “Yes, but will they think to bring us new printing presses?”

  URIAH STEPPED OVER a log in Mahala’s cemetery, removed his three-cornered hat and respectfully nodded toward the hand-carved headstone of his wife’s grave. “It’s a bit much, is it not?” he asked, putting his hat back on and taking a seat next to his son. A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, the stone path had been newly swept, and as usual, Sparky lay sleeping near her master’s feet. Mary’s was the only grave in the cemetery.

  “The preparations for the ball, you mean?”

  “Aye, I’d quite forgotten how tiresome it could be. You, my boy, have chosen the only peaceful place on the property.”

  “I miss her too, you know.”

  “I know. It was Mary who loved the balls, and once begun, I enjoyed them as well. But the preparations...”

  “Tedious?” John asked.

  “Tedious indeed, particularly since we have enjoyed such quiet solitude in the wilderness.”

  “I see, so now it was quiet solitude. When we were there, you called it the most inhospitable land in the world.”

  “That was before I had my wits about me,” Uriah said, standing up. He pulled a large wooden spoon out of his coat pocket and walked to the headstone. Holding a thumb to the base, he spread his hand and marked the tip of his little finger in the dirt. Then he began to dig.

  “Papa, what are you doing?”

  “Even now, your mother keeps watch over us. She guards the jewels we brought to America.” Uriah removed the dirt until his spoon hit metal. He wiggled a small box free, refilled the hole, and pushed leaves over the disturbed area. Blowing dirt off the top of the box, he handed it to John.

  “I was not aware any remained.”

  “There is a lot you are not aware of.”

  John waited until his father sat down and then lifted the lid. Instantly, the diamonds, pearls and emeralds glittered in the sunlight. Fascinated, he slowly tilted the box back and forth. “They are magnificent.”

  “Indeed they are. If ever you are in need, measure in the opposite direction. Your uncle will give you a fair price.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  Uriah was quiet for a moment, looking up at the trees and the clear blue sky. Finally, he said. “You intend to marry Hester?”

  “Have I no secrets from you?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Hester Wyley is a good woman and I’ll not regret calling her daughter.”

  “Thank you, Papa, your blessing means more than you can know. But it is too late, I have called on Hester four times since our return. Her aunt makes her excuses quite elegantly, but it is plain – Hester will not have me.”

  “My boy, I see I have not taught you as well as I thought. A man must be far more resourceful than a woman. He must be cunning like a fox, as patient as an eagle and ready to pounce more quickly than a lion. He must render her breathless, you see, then demand her hand in marriage.”

  “And how am I to do that? She will not even see me.”

  “I hardly think Hester will deny herself the opportunity of attending a Carson Ball.”

>   “But she is in mourning,” John said.

  “Is she? Then how is it she regularly attends the fitting of a ball gown?”

  “Are you certain? I mean, have you seen her?”

  “I have. Her gown is quite remarkable.”

  “In that case, I believe I am more inclined to help with the preparations,” John said, quickly getting up.

  Uriah watched his son walk away and then turned back to face Mary’s grave. “If only Polly were here – wearing an equally remarkable gown.”

  FOR YEARS, THEY HAD been trodden down by the fiery breath of war, and now half their men were either dead or unaccounted for. Nevertheless, Mahala’s beloved society prepared to attend Maralee’s wedding ball. They refreshed gowns and long-tail black jackets, polished dancing shoes, dressed, wrapped themselves in warm cloaks and retrieved long-forgotten smiles. African drivers atop shiny black carriages with flaming torches turned off the road from Richmond, traveled down the lane, unloaded passengers at the front door, and then moved on.

  Inside, silver candelabra on tables and between large landscape paintings on the walls filled the assembly room with warm, yellow light. Musicians played while servers, dressed in white with shiny gold trim, offered refreshments, relieved guests of their cloaks and catered to their every desire.

  But Clifton, and Clifton alone, manned the large, double front doors.

  “As I have said repeatedly,” Effie was mentioning, she on one side of Katie Wallace and her twin Abby on the other, “Papa does not allow us to look upon the baron’s nakedness.”

  “No wonder they call you the babies. Do you mean you’ve never looked?” Katie asked, gazing midway up the twelve-foot vine-covered, headless statue.

  “Well,” Abby began, quickly glancing across the enormous room at her father, “once, when we were quite certain it was Papa who snored, we ventured a look-see.”

  “And?” Katie asked.

  “My dear, you’re much too young to know,” Effie said.

  “I’m your same age!” Katie snapped.

  “Make haste,” Abby whispered, pulling both of them away, “Papa has seen us.”

  At the head of the receiving line near the front door, Caleb glared at his youngest twins. Once they dispersed, he leaned closer to his wife. “Perhaps at our next ball, we should allow the baron to exhibit.”

  “Oh, Caleb, you’ve said the same since our eldest took notice,” Elizabeth giggled and then turned her attention to an older couple waiting to be received. “Mrs. Dunlop, how delightful to see you.”

  Her husband finely dressed and she wearing a bright orange gown with an abundance of jewelry, Hester’s Aunt Dunlop always made a point of announcing their wealth. But this time her manner was not so proud, and a hint of a tear was in her eye as she warmly put her cheek to Elizabeth’s. “I don’t mind telling you, I’d begun to think we’d never see the balls again.”

  “So had I,” Elizabeth agreed, fighting back a sudden impulse of her own to cry. “Tell me, is Hester coming?”

  “She’d best be,” George Dunlop answered. “Mrs. Carson, have you any idea how much a new ball gown can set a man back these days?”

  Mrs. Dunlop huffed and firmly took hold of her husband’s arm. “Oh, never mind that, George. Come along, I cannot wait to dance.”

  “In that case, I’ll try to find you a willing partner,” Dunlop muttered, letting her drag him right past Rose and Adam, and then John and Uriah.

  Dressed in all black with a white silk shirt and a matching ruffled scarf, John turned to Adam. “Speaking of Georges, you did invite the general, did you not?”

  “Washington? Indeed I did,” Adam answered, greeting the next couple with a polite nod. “Unfortunately, he is yet detained in the North. Happy will be the day he can dismiss the militia and come home to Virginia.”

  “Aye, and when he does, the Empire will be completely without defenses,” John said.

  “Quite, but do not fret,” Adam said, kissing the gloved hand of a little six-year-old girl who was missing both of her front teeth, “so long as Frederick of Germany, Catherine of Russia, and Charles of Spain do not lust after our land, all is well.”

  John wasn’t listening. Instead, his eyes were glued to the dark-haired man coming through the front door with Hester on his arm.

  “So that’s what she and my lovely Rose have been up to,” Adam whispered. “They hope to entice a bit of jealousy. Tell me, is it working?”

  “Far better than I care to admit,” John answered, watching Hester’s escort remove her light blue satin cape. The stranger said something in her ear, Hester giggled and quickly took her escort’s arm again. She did not even bother to smooth her matching blue ball gown or straighten her long white gloves.

  With no more guests to greet, Uriah leaned forward to size up his son’s face. “You don’t think to kill him, do you? Elizabeth would never forgive us.”

  “For her sake, then,” John answered, his eyes on Hester, who still hadn’t bothered to look his way. Suddenly, one of the middle twins was standing in front of him.

  “John,” Rachel said, “Maralee requires your assistance immediately. She’s lost her locket, you see, under the chest of drawers.”

  “Saved by a locket,” John muttered, half bowing to Rachel, then offering his arm. Casually, they made their way up the side of the room, mindful of the dancing couples and small gatherings of guests. “Has she no other locket?” John asked finally.

  “Not like this one, Mama gave it to her. Isn’t it splendid, the wedding ball, I mean? I simply cannot wait until I marry. I will have lavender, I think. Yes, lavender ribbons everywhere, if they can be had naturally. And a lavender dress in which to descend the stairs on the arm of my handsome intended.”

  “You think Dulane handsome, do you?” John asked, guiding her around the musician’s platform.

  “The truth is, I’ve seen mules more handsome than Dulane. Not that a man must be all that handsome, mind you. But he must be agreeable and well mannered, particularly toward his wife.”

  “You’ve grown quite wise for not yet fifteen. Tell me, do you intend to marry anytime soon?”

  “Well, should I find the right man, I see no reason not to.”

  “But you are so young. At your age, how can you be certain of your feelings?”

  Rachel lifted her skirt just enough to climb the stairs. “Why, John Carson, you’re a prude. I’m old enough to know the tingle of one man’s touch and the flatness of another’s. I see the warmth in Papa’s eyes when he looks at Mama, and the lack of the same in other husbands. I know Dulane can never make Maralee happy, and John,” she went on, pausing halfway up the stairs, “I know you don’t love Hester, leastwise, not the way you once did.”

  John gazed long into her eyes, and then turned away. “Oh look, Suzanne found the locket,” he said, spotting Rachel’s twin in the doorway of Maralee’s bedchamber. In her hand, she held a shiny silver chain with a heart-shaped locket on the end. “You don’t need me after all.”

  “Lucky for you,” Rachel grinned. She let go of his arm and rushed up the last of the steps.

  John watched until she entered Maralee’s bedchamber and closed the door. Then his smile faded. Was fifteen really old enough to know about love? Slowly, he scanned the room until he found Hester and her escort chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins. He watched her for a time and then noticed Adam waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a glass of rum in each hand.

  “You could call him out,” Adam said, handing John one of the drinks.

  John frowned and quickly took a sip. “Can you not think of something a little less hazardous?”

  “I rather doubt it; Hester’s escort is from the South. Southern gentlemen are only taught to drink, have their way with women, and chase after runaway slaves. Whereas we, having attended William and Mary College, are taught swords, should the need arise to call a man out particularly in the Virginia Legislature.”

  “Over who might light the street lanterns, should
we ever have them again?”

  “Precisely.” Adam grinned and then watched Rachel and Suzanne come down the stairs. When Maralee walked out of her bedchamber, her low-cut, soft coral dress shimmered in the candlelight. Tiny white flowers dotted her golden hair, and a gold locket adorned her neck.

  “Ah, there she is, the most handsome woman in the Empire!” Adam said.

  Rose giggled and slipped her hand around Adam’s arm. “A wise thing to say, considering you married her twin.” She smiled up at her sister. But Maralee wasn’t smiling. Poised on the balcony with her gloved hand on the banister, she anxiously searched the crowd for Dulane.

  “Now where is he?” Rose moaned. “I gave him explicit instructions. He was to wait for her here, at the bottom of the stairs, and then go up to escort her down.”

  “He is a stupid man,” Adam said, quickly climbing two steps so he could see over the heads of the crowd. As was the plan, the music stopped and all eyes turned toward Maralee.

  Nearly in tears, the bride-to-be hung her head. “Oh, John, I cannot bear it. Go and get her,” Rose whispered.

  “Done,” John said, quickly handing the glass back to Adam. By the time he reached Maralee, the assembly room had grown embarrassingly still, so he winked at her. Then he winked repeatedly until Maralee’s discomfort turned to a slight giggle. He lavishly bowed and offered his gloved hand.

  Her eyes slowly brightening, Maralee returned with her best British curtsy, laid her hand atop the back of his, and allowed him to walk her to the top of the stairs.

  From the back of the room and only half watching where he was going, Dulane fumbled with the buttons of one sleeve, then the other as he made his way through the crowd, “Oh, I’m coming,” he grumbled.

  The endless seconds dragged on while the crowd watched, their empathy for Maralee complete. John waited until Dulane started up the steps and then abruptly threw himself in front of Maralee protectively. “You cannot have her, she’s mine!”

  “Oh, John,” Maralee giggled.

  His sleeves at last buttoned and the humor lost on him, Dulane stopped still. “What?”

  “I think to marry her myself,” John taunted.