The Second War of Rebellion
Page 54
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With the opening of the 1816 season, the Low Country came out to celebrate America’s victory over the Barbary pirates. Friends and neighbors gathered that January to toast to Stephen Beauchamp, retiring after years of fearless service to his country, and forever to be referred to as Captain. In spite of the joy around her, Maddie circulated through the drawing room at Riverside with a lingering sense of sadness. It had been years since all three of the Beauchamp siblings were together on New Year’s Day, and with her return to England, it would be a long time again before it could happen, if indeed it ever happened again. Only Ethan had remained in the Low Country, to grow and flourish like the live oak trees that shaded Riverside Plantation. Maddie was the ship that was made from that oak, tossed on the waves, to make landfall in places that changed while she was at sea. Was it the places that changed, she wondered, or was she changing as she traveled through life? She would soon be back at Albemarle and it would be the same pile of bricks and mortar, with the same carriage path.
But she would not be the rebellious young woman of eighteen, nor would she ever be that girl again. The person who arrived in Hampshire would be an independent individual. It was in her hands, then, to make it known that she was free and not beholden to her stepfather. Let them co-exist as equals, in peace, and Albemarle could become her safest harbor.
The swagger of confidence faded over the course of a long voyage that was marred by seasickness and a constant fear that one of the boys would fall overboard. By the time the merchant ship made port, Maddie was eager to put her feet on solid land and let her charges run free, at a safe distance from deep water.
So much had changed about Portsmouth that she could not be sure they were in the right city, but then Maddie would spot a familiar façade and it was as if she had never left. Beggars loitered in the same places, albeit in different rags, holding out hands blackened by the same dirt. Her party of Americans elicited stares, which the boys returned with undisguised insolence. One would think that Captain Tar was a vicious cur, based on the way Johnny held the yapping dog in check when strangers gawked too long.
“I’m tired”, “I’m hungry” or “Carry me” rained down on Maddie’s ears as they trooped along the street. No time for her to absorb the sights or dream of other days. For a brief moment, she ignored the bleating so that she could pause in front of a building that was showing its age. Mrs. Carmody was gone, the inn sold and allowed to fall to ruin. Taking Caro’s hand, Maddie pushed on after bidding farewell to the long ago. She was the independent woman, and would lodge at a different location until she received word that Albemarle was ready for occupation. Goodbye to former connections and hello to fresh beginnings, she told herself, to steady her resolve. Caro was miserable, whining and clinging, while Beau fought for his mother’s attention. The nurse was of little use, still woozy from the voyage, and Maddie’s personal maid was unsteady on sea legs and incapable of wrangling an unruly little boy.
“David, John, Willie,” she commanded. “Together, boys, and keep close to me or I promise you I shall lash you together like bales of cotton.”
Through Mr. Monroe’s kind efforts, Maddie arrived with letters of introduction to Mr. John Quincy Adams, Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of St. James and son of former President Adams. She would not have to rely on old acquaintances to help her navigate this new adventure, and Mr. Adams’ assistance had already been put to use. Through him, she found an inn that was popular with American businessmen. Based on the description of the landlord she had received, Maddie presumed that her host was the thick-set, wire-haired old man who stood in the middle of the street, examining the faces of those who walked by. His pale eyes twinkled when they fell on Maddie and her ill-humored menagerie.
Once the children were settled and the maids had collapsed from exhaustion, Maddie changed into her second best dress, a simple construction of grey cotton that had been made over twice. She was far removed from the pampered ingénue whose court dress had appeared in the pages of La Belle Assemblée all those year ago. Feeling invisible in a well-worn surtout and solid boots, she wandered through streets where she once called at the shops, passing the time in browsing. Every corner provided a memory, bringing back the desperate days when Stephen was held in a prison hulk. Every window reflected the Admiral’s devotion to her when she was young and afraid, unsure or about to walk off the precipice.
He had guided her with a firm hand, but in the end, he had pushed her away. For that reason, she had delayed contacting him. A dozen times, she started a letter, only to tear it up. Less than a month before she set sail, she finally posted some sentences that might or might not have expressed her hope that they could be civil to one another if they chanced to meet. In her heart, she knew that at some point their paths would intersect, and so they would have to negotiate a shared existence for the sake of appearances at the least. To reach that goal, her stepfather would have to recognize that she was a grown woman, a widow who did not have to take orders from him. Would he listen to her any more closely this time than he had the last?