With that, Gage stepped back, gave each woman a crisp nod of farewell, and took his leave of the tavern.
Freida leaned forward in her chair as she fixed a squint upon her newest acquisition. “What did ye say that bloke’s name was?”
Morrisa jeered after his departing figure. “Gage Thornton! Maybe the meanest man I e’er come ‘cross in me whole bloomin’ life!”
“Well, dearie, if’n ye knows what’s good for ye, ye’d better take his advice,” the procuress warned. “I’ve heard a lot ’bout that there bloke since I come here, an’ ‘tain’t entirely all good. Some say he got vexed with his wife one day an’ threw her off the ship what he’s a-buildin’ near his cabin upriver. An’ from what I hear, there’s a spinster what lives down the road a piece what may’ve seen him do it, but she’s too bloomin’ scared ta open her mouth ’cause o’ what he might do ta her if’n she talks.”
“Ye don’t say now,” Morrisa replied with a complacent grin. “I wonder if’n Sh’maine knows ’bout that.”
“The bloke ain’t very talkative ’bout himself, so’s I hear. Most likely he’ll keep his deeds ta himself, but if’n the rumors be true, ye can bet this Sh’maine ain’t as well off as one might suppose. The bloke might kill her just like he kilt his wife.”
Morrisa smirked. “An’ I could collect me reward without liftin’ a finger.”
Freida looked at her narrowly. “What reward be ye talkin’ ’bout?”
The harlot waved away her question with a backward sweep of a hand. “ ‘Tain’t nothin’. Just somethin’ I was promised by a turnkey when the lot o’ us was leavin’ Newgate an’ bein’ carted off ta the ship. But there ain’t no way o’ knowin’ for sure if what he said be true ‘til I can send back proof the deed be done. An’ I ain’t been able ta do that yet.”
“Do ye mean ye were promised payment ta kill another prisoner?”
Morrisa looked astounded at the woman’s suggestion. “Do I look like I could kill anybody?”
Freida chortled and laid her fleshy arms upon the table as she leaned forward to look directly into Morrisa’s gaze. “From what I hear, dearie, ye came mighty close ta slittin’ a few manly gullets afore yer arrest, but I won’t be havin’ that kind o’ trouble here! I have ways o’ dealin’ with unruly bawds, an’ I swears ta ye, girlie, ye’ve met yer match in me. Anything ye’ve done, I’ve done ye one better, so’s ye’d best heed me warnin’. Do ye ken?”
Morrisa spread her arms in a guise of innocence. “I ain’t meanin’ ta do a bloomin’ thing but what ye tell me, Freida.”
“That’s good!” The madam nodded slowly as she leaned back in her chair. “ ’Cause if’n ye don’t mind yer manners with me, I’ll make ye regret it like ye’ve never done nothin’ before. Ye don’t know what misery is ‘til I gives ye some. An’ I can assure ye, if’n ye vex me long an’ hard enough, ye won’t be walkin’ away from a grave.”
Morrisa felt a shiver go up her spine at the penetrating coldness in Freida’s eyes. For the first time in her life, Morrisa understood exactly what it felt like to be on the nasty end of a turnabout and to have her life threatened by another woman.
Gage entered the goldsmith’s shop and bought a wedding band, having determined the appropriate size by tying a piece of heavy twine around Shemaine’s finger and slipping it off. He considered the elderly proprietor a gentleman of principles and felt no need to urge him to hold his tongue, for the man would be as closemouthed about his customers’ affairs as he was his own. From there, Gage went to the cobbler’s shop and found Mary Margaret waiting for Miles, who had gone to the back of his shop to fetch a pair of shoes which he had repaired for the elder.
“I didn’t think I’d be layin’ me sights ‘pon yer handsome face for at least a fortnight or so after all the ruckus ye caused by bringin’ Shemaine in for the dance,” Mary Margaret warbled. “Ye set the town awhirl, ye did. Pity the poor windbags, they’ve barely stopped chatterin’ long enough ta catch their breath.” Her blue eyes twinkled with pleasure as she drew an honest chuckle from the man. “Ahhh, ‘tis good ta see that life is treatin’ ye well again, Gage Thornton. ‘Tis been nigh ta a year since I heard ye laugh with such mirth.”
“ ‘Tis your fair face, Mary Margaret McGee, that has made my day,” Gage responded with debonair flair.
The woman’s thin shoulders shook with dubious amusement. “Aye, an’ I love all Englishman like yerself, sir,” she quipped. Then she nodded pertly as she accused, “Ta be sure, ye’ve been gifted with the silver tongue o’ the Irish ta tell a lie so beautifully. But tell me, sir, what be ye doin’ here in our fair-ta-middlin’ town?”
“I came for the pair of shoes I had ordered for Shemaine, but if you have a moment or two to spare, madam, I shall have need of your services.”
“My services?” Mary Margaret was momentarily taken aback. “And what assistance would a grand gentleman like yerself be wantin’ from an ol’ lady like meself?”
“Your advice will suffice for now,” Gage answered with a grin.
Mary Margaret looked him over suspiciously as she sought to quell the irrepressible quiver at the corners of her lips. “I thought ye didn’t care for my counsel.”
“I guess that isn’t necessarily true since I’ll be taking it fairly soon. In fact, if you find yourself free two weeks from today, you may come with us to Williamsburg to see the deed done.”
The elder was thoroughly confused. “I’ll accept the invitation, ye handsome rogue, but ta be sure, I have no ken what ye’re talkin’ about.”
“Then, if you cannot use your imagination, old woman, it may well be a surprise. I’ll have Ramsey Tate fetch you from your cottage Friday two weeks from today, in the morning about six.”
“And what advice would ye be needin’ from this ol’ woman, may I ask?”
“I intend to buy Shemaine cloth for a new gown, and I have no idea what she may require to finish it.”
“Shoes from the cobbler? Cloth for a new gown?” Though Mary Margaret’s thin lips barely curved, her eyes glowed brightly. “What gift will you be wantin’ ta give the girl next, Mr. Thornton?”
Gage stared through the small panes of the window, seeming to ponder her question. “Perhaps a brush and comb of her own, a bit of toilet water and some nice scented soap.”
“For a bondslave, Mr. Thornton?”
Gage pivoted on his heels and looked down at the elder with a puckish gleam in his amber-flecked brown eyes. “For a wife, Mrs. McGee.”
A hoot of glee escaped Mary Margaret before she clapped a hand over her mouth to silence the outburst. Even so, she danced a rather lame jig with the help of her cane, and then, reclaiming some degree of dignity, peered up at him. “I suppose ye’ll be countin’ on me ta keep this news ta meself ere the vows are spoken.”
“Aye, madam. ‘Twill be news for only my closest friends to savor ‘til then.”
Mary Margaret nodded in agreement with his judicious decision. “ ‘Tis wise, o’ course, not ta befuddle Mrs. Pettycomb overmuch. She might squawk or have a seizure from the wonder o’ it. She’s clearly expectin’ Shemaine ta start showin’ her condition ere three months pass . . . but, o’ course, without benefit o’ a weddin’ ring.” She chortled in mirth at the idea of the matron’s astonishment. “Ahh, ‘twould be delightful ta be a wee little mouse in her house when she hears the news. ‘Twill pop her eyes out for sure.”
“You’re ruthless through and through, madam,” Gage accused with a chuckle. “May I never find you in the ranks of my enemies. ‘Twould be my ill fortune, to be sure.”
“Aye, ‘twould,” she concurred cheerily.
Leaning on her cane, Mary Margaret approached the doorway leading to the back of the store and called down the corridor. “Mr. Becker, ye might want ta fetch Shemaine O’Hearn’s shoes whilst ye’re back there. Mr. Thornton is here ta fetch them. An’ would ye mind hurryin’ yerself along? Mr. Thornton an’ I have some important things ta do today.”
At first, two weeks
from Friday had seemed so far away that Shemaine had foreseen no difficulty in accomplishing everything she had planned to do before that particular day arrived. She had asked Gage if she could alter one of Victoria’s gowns which she considered especially lovely. Instead, with a boyish grin that Andrew emulated so well, he had presented her with a bolt of fine cloth for a fashionable gown, lace with which to trim it, and enough soft, delicate batiste to make a new chemise and a nightgown. Shemaine was delighted with his gifts but, at the same time, a bit fretful because of them. Her normal chores usually kept her busy for most of the day, and she could not imagine how she’d ever find time to finish all of the garments before her wedding day. Gage soon solved her dilemma by conveying Mary Margaret’s offer of help, which she eagerly accepted. It helped tremendously when Ramsey volunteered to pick up the woman at her cottage for the next two weeks and bring her out with him when he came to work.
Finally the designated Friday arrived, and a heavy barge, outfitted with a large rudder and an odd collection of sails and manned by a crusty old mariner who had given up sea voyages for a quieter life, nudged up against the new loading dock that Gage and his men had built the previous week. The crated furniture was carried on first to avoid damage to the pieces, but driving the team of horses aboard proved difficult, for they were skittish about the craft and even more so about pulling the wagon across the noisy planks that served as a bridge. Gage finally had to get down from the seat and lead them on. The wedding party was the last to go aboard, and did so conveying a small assortment of valises, clothes, and other paraphernalia.
An early morning fog hung over the marshes along the river and seemed to roll up around the barge as it made its way westward. At their approach, egrets, herons, and other birds took flight, while a flock of pigeons winged its way across the skies above grassy sloughs. In other areas oaks, scrub cedar and pine masked the tidal shores.
After the island of Jamestown came in sight, the captain turned the barge into the inlet, and it was here they began to unload. Once the wagon was driven onto dry land, one of the larger crates was hefted into the bed. Gage took three of his men along with him to deliver the breakfront to a wealthy widow while Erich Wernher stayed with the women aboard the river craft. Another three trips saw the rest of the furniture transported to the new owner’s recently finished home in Williamsburg. There, the pieces were painstakingly unpacked, inspected and dispatched with infinite care to a place of residency inside the dwelling.
Before they left, the man surprised Gage by giving him a generous bonus for the excellent quality he had achieved in his designs and in the workmanship. Since his efforts and talent had amounted to at least sixty percent of the total undertaking, Gage considered it only fair that he keep fifty percent of the gift and portion off the rest, dividing forty percent evenly between Ramsey and Sly Tucker and distributing the remaining ten in equal shares to the two apprentices.
After restacking the dismantled crates in the wagon, Gage and his men took their leave and headed back toward the barge. But upon nearing the edge of town, Gage drew the team to a halt beside a fenced garden where an old woman in a cloth bonnet was carefully tilling the soil with a hoe. He jumped down and, sweeping off his hat, approached the fence near the spot where she labored.
“Your pardon, madam, but seeing as this is my wedding day, I wonder if you might allow me to buy a bouquet of flowers for my bride from your beautiful garden.”
The woman flicked a keen gaze over him, thoughtfully sizing him up. “And what has been your delay in coming to the altar, sir? You’re no untried youth, I vow.”
Gage smiled in amusement at her perception. “Nay, madam, I’ve been a widower for the last year now. I have a young son two years of age.”
Her bright eyes glittered with unquenchable humor. “And your bride? Is she a widow, too? Or have you stolen some wee young thing from her mother?”
“A maid of eight and ten, as beautiful as yourself, madam.”
The elder swept a hand toward the gate. “Come into my garden, sir, and I’ll cut you a bouquet myself . . . not for your smooth tongue, I trow, but for your child bride. Aye, I was wed to a widower, too, at a very young age, and I gave birth to five sons and saw them all grown ere my John was taken from me, but to be sure, ‘twas no dreaded weakness or illness that claimed my husband, but a stout tree that fell upon him while he was cutting it down. It took revenge and sent him to the grave.”
“I’m sorry, madam.”
“Don’t be,” the widow urged with a smile. “We had a good life together, my John and I.”
Upon clipping the freshest flowers from her garden, the woman presented them to Gage and graciously bestowed her blessing. “May you and your young bride ride the fickle tides of life with grace and dignity, sir, and may you have plenty of sons and daughters to bring you joy throughout the years to come and, in your doddering old age, a wealth of grandchildren to lighten your hearts with pride at what you’ve reaped. Now go, and may God watch over you both through your marriage and may you grow to love each other more with each passing day.”
Strangely moved by her blessing, Gage thanked her and opened his purse to pay her for the flowers, but the woman waved her hand in denial.
“Nay, sir. The flowers are my wedding gift to you. Give them to your bride and watch her smile. Then urge her to press them in a book. They’ll give you both memories for a lifetime.”
Gage approached the barge by foot after climbing down from the wagon. Shemaine had not seen him whisk the bouquet behind his back, but from the gleam in his eyes, she was wont to believe he was up to some mischief. Facing him as he came toward her across the gangplank, she settled her arms akimbo, subduing her amusement behind a suspicious perusal.
“Ye can bet he’s up ta no good,” Mary Margaret ventured with a warbling chuckle. “He looks like the fox what swallowed the chick.”
“Aye,” Shemaine agreed warmly. “He does, at that.”
Her eyes fed upon his every movement until he halted before her. Then her heart quickened with the thrill of his presence.
“For my bride,” Gage announced, sweeping the flowers from behind his back, and presenting them with a well-executed bow.
“Oh, Gage!” Shemaine cried, gathering them to her breast. “They’re lovely!”
“A gift from an old woman I met along the way. She also sent her blessings for our marriage.”
“A dear soul, to be sure,” she crooned, admiring the colorful blossoms.
Gage was anxious to proceed with the forthcoming events. “Now, my sweet, if you’ll indicate what things you want to take along with you, I’d like to be on our way. I’ve rented a room for an hour at the Wetherburn Tavern so we’ll have a place to ready ourselves before going to the church.”
Shemaine swept a hand toward her valise and her sheet-covered wedding gown, which lay across it. “All I will need is there.”
Gage picked up both their satchels and his clothes as she folded her gown over her free arm. He called to his son, who was watching fish swimming near the barge. “Andrew, will you take Mrs. McGee’s hand and escort her to the wagon?” Gage smiled at the wide grin of pleasure that spread across his son’s face and his eagerness to comply. Gage knew the task would seem like man’s work to the boy. “We’ll follow you.”
Erich stepped alongside his employer. “Is zhere somethin’ I can help vith?”
Gage gave the baggage over willingly and was grateful that he could now lend assistance to his bride. “Allow me, my sweet,” he urged, taking her gown and laying it over his own clothes. After a brief adjustment, he presented his arm. “If you’ll do me the honor, my lady, I’ll attend you to your carriage.”
Giving him a radiant smile, Shemaine looped her arm through his and hugged it close to her bosom. As the others preceded them, they lagged back long enough for Gage to steal a soft kiss from his bride. When he raised his head, she sighed with pleasure and smiled up at him in warm communication as she felt the muscles in his
arm tighten against her breast.
“Tonight you’ll be mine, my love,” he breathed in sweet promise.
Williamsburg was a costly gem in comparison to the small hamlet of Newportes Newes. Shemaine decided that fact after Gage took them on a wagon tour of the city. From the Duke of Gloucester Street, she saw a sizeable palace sitting at the far end of carefully maintained grounds that were liberally bedecked with flowers and sculptured shrubs. At least a dozen shops lined the street. An octagonal brick magazine and a guardhouse were located a short distance away. In all, it was a young but beautiful city.
Mary Margaret helped Shemaine dress in the room at the inn. When she emerged, Gage turned eagerly to devour her beauty. His bride was radiant in a pale green polonaise adorned with a white shawl collar that draped her shoulders. Several rows of lace trimmed the edges of the collar and the mid-length sleeves. More of the ruffled lace had been gathered inside the neckline, accentuating her long, graceful neck, and a pert white lace cap, artfully trimmed with green ribbon, covered the upswept knot of fiery hair. A lace handkerchief had been tied about the stems of the flowers, bunching them together, and the resulting bouquet lay over her arm.
Going to her, Gage took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “You’re beautiful, my sweet.”
Ramsey winked at his fellow cabinetmakers and cast an eye toward the clock. “Ye’d better hurry, Gage, or ye’ll be missin’ yer own weddin’.”
Gage tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Never fear, you grizzled ol’ nail-driver. I won’t be letting any snails pass beneath my feet.”
Petals on the River Page 33