by Audrey Glenn
Helen could hardly believe Nathaniel trusted her with the knowledge. “I’m a little surprised David is involved in this,” she admitted. “That reminds me. The letter — the one I just slid under the door — the money you lent is inside. All of it.”
Nathaniel walked over to the door and scooped the letter off the ground. “I see.”
Helen flushed. She hadn’t imagined it would be this difficult to tell him she didn’t need to see him anymore. “I suppose — well, our business association has come to an end.”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“What? All the money is there — all four pounds! Count it if you don’t believe me.”
“I seem to remember paying for two slices of tart that I’ve not yet received.”
“Oh. I thought you loathed tart.” She watched him closely in the dim lantern light.
“To be truthful, I’ve not much experience with them. I can’t remember my mother ever making any, nor any of the cooks aboard any ship I ever sailed on. Most nights I buy my supper at an inn or tavern. It’s possible I might like them.”
“Well, I’ll have to save you some of Verity’s, then, for she’s the best cook of all of us.”
Nathaniel took a deep breath. “I think I should like to try yours.” That was a surprise. What had come over him?
“When do you . . . ?” She sought for the right words. “When does the tea . . . ?” She didn’t recognize her own voice, which sounded reedy to her own ears.
Nathaniel didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Friday night.”
She made the connection immediately. “The governor’s ball!”
“Yes, exactly.” Nathaniel smiled at her, and she returned a grin, as if they were co-conspirators.
“I hope you’ll be safe.”
They stared at each other in the glow of the lantern. Nathaniel took a step closer to her. Helen caught her breath, but a few moments passed, and nothing happened.
“I should probably let you get back to digging.”
“May I see you home?”
Helen immediately refused. “Oh, there’s no need. I don’t want to interrupt your work.”
“’Tis no interruption,” Nathaniel argued.
Helen stared at him, wondering if he was just trying to be polite. “Very well,” she finally accepted. She blinked against the bright afternoon sunlight as he opened the warehouse door. Nathaniel gestured to her to exit first.
She caught him staring at her as they walked. “Is that a new gown?”
Helen glanced down at the red gown peeking beneath her cloak. “Yes, this is new. David insists we mustn’t embarrass him by being shabby. I don’t mind having new things, of course. I mean, not that wearing something old makes one shabby,” she added quickly, glancing sideways at him.
Nathaniel examined his plain black coat. She’d probably offended him.
“What else do you transport?” she asked quickly. “Besides — oh.” Helen looked around, but not many people were out on the street. She’d almost said “tea,” but she didn’t think it was a good idea to draw attention to that in public.
“Spices, mostly. Sometimes fabric. Not silk, ever since David invested in the Pennsylvania silk trade.”
“You’re a good friend to him.”
“He’s the best friend I’ve ever had,” Nathaniel replied matter-of-factly. Helen was taken aback. From her observation the men were no more than professional acquaintances. Was there more than she knew to the relationship? Or was Nathaniel bereft of all connections?
“Will you come inside?” Helen offered once they reached her home.
“No, I must return to digging.”
He did not wish to prolong their time any further. He was only being polite in seeing his friend’s sister home. “Of course. Thank you for escorting me.”
Cassandra was alone in the drawing room when Helen entered. She was flushed from the cold air and distracted by wondering what Nathaniel was thinking.
Cassandra looked up from her embroidery. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, just delivering a letter.” Helen busied herself with unfastening her cloak so she didn’t have to meet her sister’s eyes.
“By yourself?”
“I left by myself.” Helen forced herself to meet Cassandra’s gaze.
“And returned with Nathaniel Carter?”
Helen glanced at the window. “Were you spying on me?”
“Perhaps.”
“Yes, I returned with him. He was polite enough to offer to escort me home.” She wasn’t sure why she was being evasive, or why her sister’s questions made her feel prickly. “Why are you smiling so?”
Cassandra continued to smile down at her embroidery. “I think it a very fine thing.”
Helen scoffed. “What, you’ve decided that I — that he — that we are keeping company together?”
“Are you?” Cassandra asked.
“No!” Helen protested. “One walk and now we are to be married!”
“Perhaps,” Cassandra teased.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Helen muttered, and left the room.
David walked out of his bedroom. “Was that Nathaniel I saw you with just now?”
“Yes,” Helen snapped, “I wish you all would find better ways to occupy your time than spying on me and making conjectures!”
“Conjectures? I don’t know what you mean. I don’t think he likes you at all.”
Helen wasn’t sure why this made her feel worse. “What do you know of the matter?”
David snorted. “He’s mentioned, more than once, how much you dislike him.”
Helen gaped at him.
David placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you’re serious about finding a husband, I’m sure I can line up any number of eligible men.”
“How thoughtful.” She whirled around and shut her bedroom door firmly.
She slid down the door onto the floor. David and Cassandra were insufferable. She had to leave this place. Perhaps the Hayeses would take her in? She’d been more at ease in Nathaniel’s dark warehouse than she was enduring Cassandra’s teasing and David’s attempts to be helpful.
She was shocked to realize she’d enjoyed Nathaniel’s company. He’d spoken openly and trusted her with a secret about his smuggling operation. What if he did want to court her?
Of course, he had to dig a cellar, survive a smuggling operation, and manage to escape the law, so thinking that he might actually be interested in courting her was premature to say the least.
She would occupy herself in earning the rest of the money for the society. Whatever happened, she must focus on the tarts and paying off the indenture.
“Nathaniel!” David called out, waving him over to a table in the coffee room of City Tavern. “Well met.” David indicated for Nathaniel to sit across from him. He motioned to a man to bring Nathaniel some coffee. “No tea, I’m afraid.”
The servant hurried over to pour coffee and offer a baked good. “Ah, my Sally Lunn bread. Excellent.” David scrutinized the contents of a jam jar. “What kind of preserve is this? Not gooseberry, I hope? I’ve had enough gooseberry to last a lifetime.”
“I wasn’t certain the city needed another tavern,” Nathaniel observed, “but I see the appeal of having such large rooms.” He snagged the jam after David set it down.
“Yes, the subscription room provides all the broadsides, journals, and latest news from England, while the bar room provides all the libations a man can stomach. There are some very large meeting rooms upstairs. Large enough to hold a ball, so I understand, which has brought great joy to my household.”
Nathaniel snorted. “A strong endorsement. Are you trying to get me to invest in this place?”
“No, though I wish I had done so myself.”
Nathaniel tried to spread jam — raspberry — on his bread without allowing the knife to touch the blisters on his hands. He was no stranger to hard work and had many calluses, but shoveling twelve hours a day had taken a toll on him.
; David leaned forward conspiratorially. “Have you secured a location for the, er, cargo?”
“I have.”
“Very well.” David kept his voice lowered, though the two other tables seemed engrossed in their own conversations. “I’ll escort Cassandra and Helen to the governor’s ball, then give some pretense for leaving after securing another ride home for the ladies. Being seen at the ball will give me the perfect alibi should anyone question my involvement.”
“Are you still invited to the ball after that argument you had with Winthrop?”
David smirked. “Nothing short of my being convicted of murder would keep them from inviting the son of an English marquess to their ball. I lend them consequence!”
“And Helen doesn’t mind attending after all that’s transpired with Winthrop?” Nathaniel hoped he sounded casual. He didn’t want David discovering that he thought of Helen all the time.
“Blast Winthrop! I’ve been witness to such drama as even Shakespeare couldn’t conceive. My wife’s cousin Temperance boasted to all in her acquaintance that Winthrop asked her to open the ball with him, so Helen has been in agony trying to decide if she should tell Temperance of Winthrop’s perfidy with the taxes.”
This was far too much trouble over a small matter. Couldn’t Helen enlighten her cousin and be done with it?
“I envy you, Nathaniel, I really do, for traversing the Delaware with the rankest thieves couldn’t possibly be more dangerous than the pit of lions I’ll be dropped into on Friday evening.”
He chuckled. “Surely it can’t be that bad?”
“Ha! Again you reveal your ignorance of women. I’ve tried to guide Helen so that she doesn’t cause offense to her aunt and uncle, but she refuses to see reason.”
Nathaniel frowned. Helen didn’t seem to appreciate any meddling in her affairs.
David shifted back in his chair. “This will amuse you. Cassandra firmly believes that you harbor a tendre for Helen. Apparently she took your escorting Helen the other night as evidence you mean to court her. Ridiculous, is it not? I told her that you could barely tolerate her sister.”
Nathaniel chuckled woodenly. “Ridiculous,” he agreed. Had David also told Helen that? His stomach twisted.
All around them men started to stand.
“Ah, ’tis time for the Sons of Liberty meeting.” David pushed away from the table. “Would you care to attend?”
“Is that why you asked me here?”
“We are to draft a notice to the captain of the Polly that he’ll be greeted by the Tar and Feather Committee if he tries to dock in Philadelphia.”
“I’ll believe it when I witness it with my own eyes,” Nathaniel retorted, standing up to leave. “I’ve more preparations to make.”
David followed him out into the corridor.
“Good evening, Beaufort!” Nathaniel recognized Dr. Benjamin Rush.
“Good evening, Dr. Rush,” David rejoined, following his friend upstairs to the meeting.
Nathaniel slipped outside into the cold night.
“Sir, will you buy my last paper?” a boy called.
Taking pity on him, Nathaniel tossed the boy a ha’penny. He turned the paper in his blistered hands, remembering how Helen admonished him for assuming she only garnered the news from David.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want David to know that he was interested in Helen. He felt protective of the knowledge and a bit embarrassed. How would he bring it up? Men didn’t go around talking to other men about their feelings!
He could take the paper to Helen to show he valued her intelligence. David wasn’t at home, so he wouldn’t have to know about it. Nathaniel wasn’t sure how things were normally done in courting. Was a newspaper an acceptable offering? Was he courting her?
His heart hammered as he approached the door to Josiah Hayes’s law office. This was ridiculous. He might not know much about women, but he was certain men didn’t make a gift of a newspaper to young ladies they were interested in courting.
He was about to turn away and walk home when the window above him opened.
“Coming in?” Cassandra called down to him.
“Uh, yes, I was just — um, is David home?” He winced. For all he knew, David told her he was going to meet Nathaniel and now he seemed like an idiot.
“No, but do come up and get warm for a moment.”
“I thank you. I —” Nathaniel searched for something to say. He didn’t know what he’d even say to Helen if she was even at home.
The door in front of him swung open. Helen, covered in a dusting of flour, was standing on the threshold.
“Good evening. Coming up?” Her welcoming smile reassured him.
“Just for a moment,” he managed, following her up the stairs.
Helen glanced down. “What’s in the paper?”
“I’m not sure. I brought it for you.” He thrust the paper at her, hoping she remembered their conversation at the warehouse.
“Oh! Thank you.”
Cassandra stood at the top of the stairs. “Come into the kitchen,” she bade him. “It’s the warmest room in the house with both fires going.”
Nathaniel didn’t have much experience of cookery, but it was evident when he entered the kitchen that Helen was in the midst of making more tarts.
Helen noticed the direction of his gaze. “I’m improving. I can now make something even our cook finds edible and manage not to wreck the kitchen in the process.”
Cassandra didn’t follow them into the kitchen. “How do things proceed?” Helen asked, resuming her work.
“Very well. I’m making progress on . . . my endeavor.”
“Oh, could you give me that jar there — My! What’s happened to your hands?” Helen grabbed his right hand and peered at the blisters there. “These are awful! All from shoveling, I suppose? Sit there.”
She retrieved a large stone basin with some difficulty, refusing Nathaniel’s assistance. He sat as bid, not wanting to incur her wrath. Helen poured some water out of a bucket to fill the basin and then added a few drops of something else.
“Essence of lavender,” she explained. “It works to soothe burns, so I imagine it will work quite well on blisters.”
Nathaniel plunged his hands into the water.
“Well?”
The cool water was pleasant. “Very nice.”
Helen returned his smile and resumed working once more. She was beautiful in the flickering light of the fire. If family life meant being warm and comfortable and having a beautiful woman take care of him, he would very much like to have a family.
“I think even I’m heartily sick of gooseberry by now,” she admitted, “though I should never reveal that to David. He tells me I should throw the unsold tarts directly in the rubbish heap and swears he will eat no more, but it seems so wasteful to do so.”
“Is there — might I try some?” Nathaniel stumbled over the words. He was turning into a fool. He never tripped over his speech in business.
“Of course. You should be doing us a great service! Perhaps you will not find it too sweet after all.” She cut him a slice and brought the plate to him. He made to take his hands out of the water.
“Oh no — leave them. Here.” Helen picked up the slice and brought it to his mouth. Nathaniel bit down carefully and chewed slowly, savoring the taste. It was a little tart, but pleasingly sweet at the same time.
Helen watched him. He hastened to swallow. “Very good,” he assured her.
Helen blushed prettily and lifted the tart again. Nathaniel’s breath caught.
The door of the kitchen opened behind them.
“What the devil is going on here?” David stood in the doorway. Nathaniel jumped up, splashing water everywhere.
“I was just —”
“You’re home early.” Helen placed the tart slice back on the plate. “Nathaniel was doing you a service by finishing the tart you find so repulsive.”
David’s eyes narrowed.
Nathaniel shook
the water off his hands. “I should be leaving. Thank you for the tart and the water. Good night.”
David followed him downstairs. “Do you mind telling me what that was really about?” he asked.
Nathaniel scratched his ear uncomfortably. “I was just walking by, and Cassandra asked me to warm myself by the fire.”
“You don’t live anywhere near here,” David retorted. “And you told me you had more preparations to attend to.”
Nathaniel shrugged, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Well, if you do intend to court my sister-in-law — and I find it a very shocking thing if you do, for you appeared to roundly loathe each other a few days ago — you must go through me!”
“Of course!” This must be one of the rules of courtship he knew so little about.
“Fine. Good night.” David turned and went inside.
Nathaniel shoved his hands into his pockets. The memory of the cool water on his hands was pleasant, but Helen’s kindness warmed him throughout. He would ask David’s permission to court her when this was all over, he decided, no matter how awkward it might make things. The thought of having a kitchen like that to sit in every evening, along with Helen to talk to, was an inducement that outweighed any cost.
For the first time since beginning the tart scheme Helen dreaded going to the market. She would see Temperance for the first time since deciding it was her Christian duty to tell her cousin the truth about Winthrop.
Perhaps Temperance wouldn’t listen, but Helen felt she had to tell her about the false tax he levied. Temperance continued to allude to her upcoming marriage to him, and Helen would feel terrible if her cousin entered into such a commitment without knowing his true nature.
She forced herself to walk into the baker’s stall. Jane was already laying out tarts while Temperance waved at potential customers.
“Oh, Helen!” Temperance rushed to embrace her. “I’m so happy you’re here! I want to hear all about the gown you’re wearing to the ball.” Helen felt a twinge of guilt for what she had to say to her cousin.
“What are you wearing to the ball?” she asked, trying to make polite conversation before delving into a more difficult subject.