by Betty Bolte
"You'll need to make your intentions known soon. You have some competition in that arena, if my eyes didn't fail me." Benjamin straightened up, planting his feet as though standing on a moving deck. "Ethan Sullivan seemed to find her equally intriguing."
Startled by the observation, Nathaniel straightened his shoulders as he studied his friends' smirks. Competition indeed. He recalled the brawny specimen of a man, and settled on his answer. "Then I suppose I should accept your offer so I can do something about this situation."
"Good man." Frank shook his hand. "What else do you need to know?"
Despite his objections and disgust at the prospect, the fact remained he needed the money. More urgently now than mere moments ago if he had any hopes of wooing his love. To make his personal dreams a reality, he'd do whatever necessary. Including moving dead animals. He swallowed the rising bile in his throat.
"When do we start?"
Chapter 11
The aroma of pan sausage and coffee drew Evelyn down the stairs as surely as the echo of her parents' banter. She followed the scent of cloves and spices and the sound of laughter into the dining room. Richard and Lucille glanced up from their discussion at the rectangular table in the center of the room. Crystal candlesticks stood at each end of the white clothed surface, surrounded by platters of steaming corn cakes and sausage.
"Running a bit late this morning, aren't you?" Richard lifted his cup and saluted Evelyn.
Chuckling, Evelyn strode farther into the room. Her father always said the same thing when she appeared for the morning meal. A question started when she was a child and overslept one morning. On her sixth birthday, no less. She'd never been permitted to relegate the act to distant memory.
"Did you leave me some coffee?" Evelyn grinned as she went to retrieve a cup of hot brew.
Taking her seat, Evelyn swallowed a sip. The liquid burned the tip of her tongue, but the pleasure of the taste overrode the discomfort. She caught her mother's eye as she lowered her cup to the table. "What's the occasion?"
"Nothing really. I merely decided to use the ingredients on hand rather than having to go to the market." Lucille picked up the platter holding the finger-sized rolls of browned sausage. "I think they turned out the best I've ever made."
"They certainly smell divine." Evelyn took the platter and speared two rolls onto her plate.
Her mother was an unusual mistress of the household, insisting on preparing part of each of the meals enjoyed by her family. The elderly black slave who assisted in the kitchen prepared dishes to complete the menu which her mother had chosen. Most likely, her mother made the sausages while the other woman whipped up the flapjacks and set out the honey and butter. Tea and coffee also were the slave's domain. Lucille relied on teaching others by her example and wouldn't ask any household servant to perform a task she couldn't do herself as well. A trait which endeared her mother to her servants, eliciting their loyalty and respect.
"Have some corn cakes with that." Richard passed the plate of golden flapjacks.
"You'll spoil me with such fine eating." Evelyn added a pair of cakes to her plate, then reached for the crystal bowl of honey resting on a silver plate. She removed the lid and lifted the small spoon to dip into the amber fluid. "I'll need to hire a cook when I move to my own lodgings."
Richard paused in putting a bite into his mouth. He swallowed and peered at her. "You have no need to leave. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."
"I appreciate your hospitality more than I could ever repay." Evelyn drizzled honey across her corn cakes. She hadn't planned to blurt out her desire to move out of her parents' home. But she'd resolved over the days staying with them on her course of action. "I have to think about my son's future as well as my own. I do not wish to burden you any longer than necessary."
"You're never a burden to us, dear." Lucille caught Evelyn's attention with a wave of her hand. "We shall always support you when you have need."
"I appreciate your concern." Evelyn cut into the flapjack and lifted a bite to her mouth. How should she relay to them her plan? She swallowed and laid her fork on the plate. "I rode out to the manor the other day, to see what is left of my home."
"What did you find?" Richard gripped the fragile handle of the porcelain cup, hesitating in the act of drinking its steaming contents.
The scene appeared in her mind, the charred remains and desolate chimneys, causing a knot in her throat. The shadow of disquiet she'd felt passed over her, making her shiver. She rested against the chair back and sighed. "The fire destroyed everything except the stones and bricks. Those were covered in soot and practically unusable."
"You didn't go alone, did you?" Lucille regarded her with a frown and a troubled gaze. "It's not safe for a young woman to venture out of town without an escort."
"Amy and Samantha went with me, along with Ethan, Bill, and Luke." She recalled how attentive her cousin had been, wondering about his intentions. She had no interest in him as anything more than a relative, but he did not know that. She hoped his feelings proved not to be what she imagined, especially since she refused to consider remarrying until more time passed. "We went to determine what I could do with the property."
"Without a house to live in, you may as well try to sell it and stay here with us." Richard sipped his coffee, returning the cup to the saucer. "There's plenty of room."
"I'd enjoy having a baby in the house again." Lucille leveled a gentle smile at Evelyn. "I could help you raise him."
"You have plenty of experience with babies and children." Tears smarted Evelyn's eyes at the gentle kindness in her mother's voice. Her mother adored children of all ages, but especially infants she could cuddle in her arms. Evelyn blinked away the lingering tears. Her intent would cause no little consternation for her parents. "The property is part of my son's inheritance, so I'd hesitate to sell it. But I do plan to rebuild the manor house."
Richard studied her in the time required for three breaths, fingers gripping the fragile porcelain handle of his cup so hard she feared he'd snap it off. Her mother added more honey to her cakes then cut into them with her fork. Evelyn waited for her father's reaction, which she sensed was imminent.
"You intend to move out there by yourself? With just your wee son and a servant?" He blinked as he shook his head. "Not a wise move, to my mind."
She'd marshalled her arguments and reasons the night before while lying in bed. Or rather tossing and turning in a vain attempt to find sleep. Her father's objection came as no surprise. Indeed, she'd have been surprised if he had not objected. Neither of her parents had approved of Walter's decision to live so far from Charlestown. As much as she'd prefer to live in town, she desperately needed to prove to herself she could survive on her own terms. Through her own initiative and efforts. To make decisions for herself to the benefit of both her and her son. The years of her marriage to an abusive husband, trapped by the circumstance with no easy way out, made her appreciate the independence widowhood granted. She could choose for herself if and whom she married. She could sign contracts, and buy and sell her property. Actions forbidden to married women under the archaic coverture laws. With good fortune, those would be changed in the new America.
"I won't be alone as I intend to expand the building to add several rooms." Her father's curiosity was plain in his expression as he lifted a brow and waited for her to continue. She gulped as she picked up her fork to occupy her hands. "I'm going to start a girls' boarding school."
Her father put down his cup with a clatter, tea sloshing onto the white cloth. "A school? Who will teach the girls what they must learn?"
Obviously, he didn't think her capable, which only made her more determined to overcome her own doubts to achieve the goal. "I will, to begin with. I've studied Walter's books for the last several years."
"Reading novels does not make one a teacher." Richard tapped a finger on the table to emphasize each word.
"Not novels, Father, but books on history, philosophy, ge
ography." She regarded the stern face. His tapping finger, visual evidence of losing control, revealed the degree of his distress. She had to make him understand. She'd thought through the entire proposition and decided she would do everything in her power to succeed in conveying the proper education to her students. After all, no other viable options had presented themselves to her. She may as well follow through on the school. "I will hire another teacher to assist me, naturally, when I have enough students to afford to, but I believe I have the ability to teach."
Lucille put her fork on her plate and then laid her hands in her lap. "Since Walter's library was destroyed in the fire, you'll need to buy new books, which is not a minor expense."
"I'm aware of the cost of replacing the books, but they will be needed for certain subject matter." The memory of seeing the burned pages of the many volumes among the ashes made her wince. So much lost in the conflagration. She had to start over from the beginning to put together a new household. "I never said any of what I'm about to do will be easy."
"Then why do it?" Lucille tilted her head to one side for a second before straightening her neck. "You know you don't need to subject yourself to such a strain, do you not?"
How could she make her parents comprehend? "All I know is that I want the best for my son. I believe I'll be better able to teach him as a result of teaching others. Does that make sense?"
"I suppose there is some logic in what you say." Richard shook his head and picked up his fork. "Do girls need to know about math?"
She stared at her father, unsure how to respond without offending him. Many sharp retorts struggled to spring from her lips, but she wrestled them back. A simple, straightforward answer would serve the purpose. "Yes."
He raised a brow as he speared a bite of sausage, holding it aloft. "For what reason would a girl need to understand formulas and calculations?"
"Every time she goes to the market or the milliner's." Evelyn snared a bite of corn cake with her fork, dredging it through the honey pooled on her plate. "So she can determine the correct price and total of money she spends."
"You have a point, but the fundamentals are all that is necessary for any woman to understand."
The exact attitude she intended to defy with her course of instruction. Emily's advocacy for equal education informed Evelyn's approach and expectations. Her effort may be only one small step. To her mind, if she taught her students to believe learning about the world around them would help them be better people, then perhaps they'd teach others to respect the concept of education for all.
"Don't neglect the girls' domestic education." Lucille lifted her fork again, poised to spear a piece of sausage. "They must know how to manage a house no matter what else they learn."
"They will receive a comprehensive grounding." Evelyn sipped her coffee, swallowing the last drop. Setting her cup on its matching saucer, she sat back in her chair. "The Sullivan brothers will start to clean up the debris in a couple days. I've nearly finalized the sketch of my idea for the new house."
"You're serious?" Richard switched from tapping to drumming his fingers on the tablecloth. "You're going to move back to that place? After all that happened there?"
"Yes." Short and to the point seemed to work best when dealing with her father. Especially when she had one more subject to discuss with him.
Richard shook his head, disappointment etched into the lines pulling down around his mouth. "Very well. I cannot stop you from acting on your desires, though I do question your decision. But as your mother said, we shall always support you."
"Which is why I'd like to request your help." Evelyn glanced at each parent in turn. The next words proved the hardest for her to say. But say them she must. She swallowed the fear of refusal. "Will you loan me the money I need to start the school?"
Chapter 12
After a miserable day of aligning letters and hanging pages, Nathaniel needed to wash before enjoying a before-dinner cocktail. A double quantity of whatever hard liquor Mr. Abernathy had on hand. He'd started at dawn, not even taking time to enjoy breakfast with the family. And Evelyn in particular. He considered his absence from her company a dear sacrifice indeed. But his employment demanded his presence. He and Sawyer worked hard throughout the entire day, striving to meet the burdens of the growing number of customers. The increase in clientele reflected the rebound of the entire city, a positive turn indeed. He slipped into the house and hurried to his room, avoiding meeting any others in the state of his attire. He poured water from the pitcher into the basin and quickly scrubbed his hands clean with a bit of soap.
He changed from work clothes into proper evening garments: dark pants with a precise crease, white silk shirt and cravat, completed with an evening jacket embroidered with flowers, vines, and birds on a ruby background. He'd been especially pleased with the beautiful coat given to him by his wife, who had made it in honor of his twenty-fifth birthday three years ago. One of the few reminders of her left to him. He trailed a hand over the stitching, imagining Patsy's hands creating the elaborate design. Drawing in a deep breath, he released it in one long sigh. She might not have been the most loving woman, but they'd had a satisfactory life together. He missed the companionship and someone to share his day.
His thoughts naturally drifted to Evelyn and his hope for a future with the tantalizing woman. The biggest problem he faced was how to provide for her and her son. No woman with any sense married solely for love and companionship, especially one with a child to consider. He grabbed a brush and stroked it through his hair, detangling it so he could tie it back with a length of black ribbon. With each pass, he tried to decide his next steps. Two came easily to mind. First, make enough money to fund his ultimate plan. Second, convince Evelyn to permit him to court her in earnest. But the first one should precede the second, in a perfect world. He released an impatient breath. He didn't live in a perfect world, not by far. He laid down the brush and straightened his jacket with a sharp tug.
Feeling refreshed and presentable, he sauntered down the passage, heading toward what he hoped would be a relaxing dinner and conversation. Mayhap Amy would tell a story, or Evelyn would sing a song later. He smiled as he strode into the parlor where the family gathered before the evening meal.
Richard stood near the fireplace, holding a crystal glass containing amber liquid. "Evening, Mr. Williams. Would you care for a splash of whiskey, to whet your appetite?"
Nathaniel acknowledged the sentiment as he strode across the oriental carpet and paused in front of the high-backed stuffed chair standing to one side of the fire. A vague disappointment settled on his shoulders. Evelyn had not made an appearance yet. "A double, if you have some to spare."
Lucille spoke from her seat on the gold brocade sofa facing the fireplace. "I hope your day did not prove too fatiguing."
Accepting the glass from Richard, Nathaniel sank onto the cushioned seat. "Fatiguing indeed. I am grateful for the position, but am glad I won't remain in it forever."
"We each must do what is necessary to survive." Richard crossed to sit beside Lucille, his easy grace and fluid movements belying his advanced age.
In some ways, Evelyn's parents reminded him of his own. Their easy companionship flowed between them, binding them together. One could tell they cared deeply about the other, and the example they set for their daughters proved instructional to the maximum. He envisioned Evelyn, the care and adoration of young James evident each time she gazed upon the boy. Oh, to have her express such a feeling for him...
He sipped the fire water, the whiskey living up to its name as it coursed down his throat. Burning the dust from his tongue and the smell of ink from his nose. While he found some measure of enjoyment in working with his hands so he could see tangible progress in the form of printed materials, the repetition of the required actions aggravated his equanimity. He'd prefer to be out of doors, hunting or farming.
"I've agreed to work for Frank for six months, and I'll keep my word." He sipped and cradled the
glass between both hands. "By then I will have decided what I will do."
Female laughter made him turn toward the open door, anticipation sharp on his tongue. The rustle of skirts and the patter of slippers on the wood floor announced Amy and Evelyn, walking side by side with arms interlocked. Benjamin strolled into the room behind them, a bemused expression on his face. Nathaniel met Evelyn's gaze and smiled in welcome. When she smiled back, his heart filled with an abiding sense of pleasure. After everyone had settled onto a seat, with a glass of whisky or sherry in hand, he indulged in simply observing her.
She had certainly changed over the last several months. No longer did she hunch her shoulders or look at her feet while she conversed. She held her head up, eyes alive with an inner fire as she spoke. Her shoulders squared, her back straight as an arrow, her comportment rivaled that of a queen. Her hands, though calloused from housework, featured long, tapering fingers clasped around the glass of sherry. A longing to hold her hand, to touch some part of her, stole his breath and made his heart pound. Racing with the desire surging through him.
"Dinner is served, Miss Lucille." Sally, the dark-skinned cook, dipped into a brief curtsey in the open door and then pivoted on one foot and hurried out of sight.
The group rose as one and followed the cook's retreating figure down the hall and into the dining room. Nathaniel trailed the exodus, lagging behind so he could calm his racing heart. What was wrong with him? Too much liquor? Or too much wishful ponderings? He tried to shake the sensation away with a toss of his head. Took a few deep breaths, letting them each out over several moments. Better.