Emerson smiled. “You will be better able to enjoy seeing it if you stop avoiding me.”
“True.” Wiley quirked a brow. “Let us strike a deal. I will cease avoiding you, if you cease asking me to intervene with Lark.”
“’Tis fair.” Difficult though. Yet if Emerson were going to be without his bride, he might as well be without her with his friend. He extended a hand, which Wiley shook.
Relief flowed through him. But under it still roiled the conviction that he must find Lark, must set things right.
How in the world would he achieve that without prying information from Wiley?
Chapter Seven
Lark held the cloth close to the window to catch the light and aimed her needle at the hem. Her best dress had seen better days—namely, any day preceding this Saturday past. She had been all excitement to join the Randels at the official ball held in honor of General Washington before his resignation, had dressed in her finest, and had been nearly as giddy as Sena to go to the beautiful Caroll estate abutting Acton’s Creek.
Over the course of the evening, she had broken a heel from her slipper, received a bump that sent wine onto her skirt, and ripped the hem when an oblivious dancer stepped on it.
Still, her lips pulled up in a smile. She had never seen the likes of that ball. To be sure, Mr. Caroll was the wealthiest man in the country, so it was to be expected. But a more jovial gathering she had not beheld in many a year. Between the men at their cards and the women laughing along with the music, movement and color had filled her vision with every turn of her head.
And when they stepped outside to return home in the early hours of the morning, the city had been glowing in an illumination, in recognition of the general. Lanterns and candles and lamps shone from shop windows, public houses, and private dwellings, casting their golden glow upon the buildings and streets and surely reaching all the way to heaven.
As she stitched the tear closed, Lark decided a torn hem and sore toes were a fair price to pay for the privilege of taking part in such a celebration.
The Randel boys whooped their way into the room, dragging her attention from her sewing. Johnny led the parade in an oversized tricorn, a wooden sword belted to his waist. “There is the mighty Delaware, soldiers!”
Mrs. Randel looked up from her own mending with a soft smile. “Might you valiant troops ford the river from the other room?”
“But Mother—”
“Better still,” their father interrupted from behind his book, emerging enough to display an arched brow, “go review that Latin I assigned you. You will find it most apropos for the season.”
Will huffed and planted his hands on his hips. “But Father, school is out for the holiday. Why must we do lessons? None of the others will be.”
“None of the others have the misfortune of being the schoolmaster’s sons. The three of you may work together on it. I imagine with little Mark helping, you shall be done in no time.”
The youngest frowned. “I hate Latin.”
“And I needn’t any help.” Will raised his chin. “I’m better at it than Johnny, even.”
The eldest gave his brother a shove. “You are not. But we are both far ahead of anyone else, which only means we are bored in class. Come, Father, let us play.”
Mr. Randel raised his book again, but Lark caught the wink of a grin. “Education takes no holidays, my boys. It is only a few lines to keep your wits sharp. Off with you. I expect to see a translation when I return from the State House.”
The three spun for the door, mumbling, and nearly ran into Mrs. Green. She shook her head at them. “Now children, you know what Poor Richard says. ‘Genius without education is like silver in the mine.’ You may all be smart as whips, but without your father’s instruction, it would be worthless. Run along now.”
Lark cast a quick glance beside her and caught the indulgent roll of Sena’s eyes. In her week with the Randels, she had heard no fewer than a dozen of Mr. Franklin’s adages spill from the woman’s lips—perhaps closer to two dozen.
Mr. Randel lowered his paper once the boys were clear of the room. His grin still hovered around the corners of his mouth. “Did your brother complain of me like my sons do, Miss Benton?”
She chuckled and double-checked her last stitch. Invisible. Perfect. “No, just of my incessant begging that he share with me all he had learned. There were several times when he mumbled about not wanting to come home from school only to play teacher to a speck of a girl who had no need of Latin or mathematics.”
“You surely had tutors.” Mrs. Randel gave her the same soft smile she had bestowed on her own children. “Did they not indulge your desire to learn?”
“Not always in the subjects I wanted. Left to my own devices, I would be poorly equipped for running a house and far better at the more masculine subjects.”
Sena grinned and tossed the stocking she had been mending into the basket at her feet. “You ought to have grown up with us, Lark. Papa would have filled you to bursting with every subject you could possibly want to learn about, and then some. He always eschewed the idea that females need only learn of dance, music, drawing, and some literature. He taught me the same subjects as my brothers.”
“And why not? You are every bit as good at them as they.” With a glance at the mantel clock, Mr. Randel straightened. “We ought to be on our way soon, if you ladies would like to ready yourselves.”
Mrs. Randel sighed. “How I wish I were not so conspicuous. I would love to accept the invitation. Mrs. Green, you ought to go in my place. I know you admire General Washington greatly.”
“I do, that, but such occasions are not the thing for me. Besides, you will be in need of a respite, so who would keep an eye on the boys if I went?” The housekeeper waved the suggestion away and tidied the table between her two employers. “Let the young ladies go with Mr. Randel and enjoy themselves. I will expect a full recounting when they return.”
“You shall have it,” Sena swore. Most likely with a few embellishments, if Lark knew her new friend a whit.
A tingle of excitement swept through her. She put her dress and needle down and stood without hesitation. Whoever would have thought she, of all the members of her family, would manage to be present when General Washington resigned his commission? Not her father, his longtime acquaintance, or her brother, who had served under him in the war, but her. Little, insignificant Lark Benton.
“I still cannot believe he will resign,” Sena said as she led the way from the room. “He could have retained his commission and ruled the nation from the helm of the military. He could have had any title in the world. And instead he will retire to Mount Vernon and live quietly.”
Lark followed her friend up the stairs to their shared room. “He is a great man.”
“Not only that, but a good one.” Pushing open the door, Sena bounced inside and scooped up her bonnet. “I am so glad you are here for this, Lark. We will someday be able to tell our grandchildren we witnessed one of the most important acts in our nation’s history.”
Lark smiled, even as a pang pierced her. Grandchildren. Dare she hope to ever have any of those, now? Marriage did not seem to loom in her future. But she could tell her sister’s children about it, and the nieces and nephews Wiley would someday give her.
They took turns in front of the mirror, positioning their bonnets just so, then went back downstairs for their cloaks and muffs. The weather was still frigid, but the walk would be brief.
Sena’s mother joined them at the door. “You two look lovely.”
With a pirouette, Sena laughed. “All the important men in the nation will be there. Perhaps I shall catch myself a noteworthy husband.”
Her mother sent her gaze heavenward. “If that were your goal, my dear, you would be wed already. But since matrimony will require taming that adventurous spirit of yours…”
“Or I could marry an adventurer. There are wilds yet to be explored, Mamma. Perhaps I shall go off in search of the Northwest
Passage.”
Mr. Randel appeared with hat and cloak and shaking head. “I know a few frontiersmen, if you would like me to introduce you, my dear. Perhaps they, with their less civil ways, would have better luck controlling you than I do.”
Sena laughed and looped her arm through her father’s. “For that, I shall refuse to marry for another while yet, to torture you the longer.”
Lark let her mouth relax into a smile. Out of control or not, when Sena decided she was ready to wed, no man would be able to resist her. Although she had to wonder if her friend was not ready, or if her heart was more firmly attached to Mr. Calvert than she admitted.
Oh, why did love and wisdom in love not coexist more often? Why could they not decide with their minds where their hearts inclined? She would have been able to forget Emerson long ago, were that the case. Then his dark eyes would not be filling her dreams every night, nor would the taunting images of him with Penelope.
Well, enough of him. She twirled her cloak about her shoulders and squared them. She didn’t need Emerson Fielding to have a full life.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Randel sent her a twinkling grin and opened the door. Cold air rushed inside, and the three of them stepped onto the stoop and descended the stairs with waves of farewell for Mrs. Randel and Mrs. Green. Mr. Randel led the way to the right, up North Street, and Lark fell in beside Sena directly behind him.
“After this,” Sena whispered, “I would like to introduce you to another friend of mine. We will have to stop in the Market Place first to pick up a few things, if that meets with your approval.”
“By ourselves?” Though she whispered, her gaze darted to Mr. Randel.
Sena grinned. “Papa would feel he must refuse if we asked, but he does not mind me venturing out without escort nearly so much as he pretends. Especially now that I have you with me. Really, are you not better than a maid or servant boy?”
Lark had her doubts about that but felt reckless enough not to argue the point. Never in her life had she dared go to market with only another girl near her own age. Might it not be exciting? She nodded her assent.
The white dome of the State House loomed majestic before them, and Lark couldn’t resist tilting her head back to see its full splendor. At the top waved the latest design of the nation’s flag, with its vertical field of blue spanning the height of the stripes, and its thirteen white eightpoint stars. “Oh, it is the first I have seen the new flag.”
Mr. Randel turned round with a smile. “Mr. Shaw’s design, of course. He is responsible for the furniture within the Senate Chamber as well.”
They joined the confluence of other fashionable families pattering up the marble steps and past the columns, through the tall wooden doors. Mr. Randel turned to them again. “You ladies must repair to the gallery with the other womenfolk. I shall see you after the proceedings.”
“Of course, Papa. I see Mrs. Alderich going up now—we shall join her.”
Lark looked up into the rotunda as they passed through it, drawing in a breath of appreciation at the detailed designs worked into the plaster and the bountiful windows in the top part of the dome. They then entered the stairwell room and headed up to the gallery. The Senate Chamber lay before them as they took their spots at the rail with the other ladies. At the farthest end of the room there was a dais with a broad leather chair upon it, a clerk’s desk and chair at its side. Light streamed in from a wide bank of windows, opposite a fireplace with flames licking high and bright.
Men swarmed the room, all in their best dress, hats tucked under arms and cloaks tossed over shoulders. Lark scanned the collection in search of General Washington but saw his figure nowhere.
“There is Thomas Jefferson.” Sena pointed directly below them, to where the statesman stood with a hand held behind his back, chatting with his fellow Virginia representative, young Mr. Monroe. Lark drew back a bit—both men were familiar with the Fieldings, and she had no intentions of inadvertently giving away her presence here. Chances were slim that they’d recognize her, but not impossible. She had been introduced to both before.
“I wonder if Mr. Hamilton will be here.” Sena looked over the crowd with interest. “He and Papa are excellent friends.”
“Oh?” A smile twitched Lark’s mouth up. “I have never met him, but I have heard rumors.”
Sena’s brows arched up in obvious delight. “What kind of rumors?”
“Let us just say Mrs. Washington has named a tomcat at Mount Vernon Hamilton after him, given his ways with females.”
Sena laughed, bright if muted. “I am not surprised. Though Papa has not had much chance to talk with many of his friends since the war. I know he misses the old Tuesday Club days.”
“Tuesday Club?”
Sena grinned. “That was what the gentlemen called their boasting and drinking parties. Alexander Hamilton was the news-bearer and practically haunted the post road for the latest official gossip. They met most often in public houses, but occasionally at the members’ homes. We hosted a time or two when I was very small. I remember sneaking down to watch.”
“I can only imagine what you overheard.” Lark chuckled, remembering well Wiley’s warnings about the coffeehouse—how much worse would gentlemen be at a gathering such as Sena described?
“Oh, what wits they all were! They would read poetry and essays they had written, sing ridiculous songs they had composed, have mock trials….” Sena’s smile faded a bit. “All that ended with the war. Papa is practically starved for intellectual gatherings, I think. He keeps mumbling about putting another club together. Perhaps after the babe comes.”
A ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd below, and a moment later another man stepped in. Lark drew in a long breath. Taller than most any other in the assembly, General Washington was unmistakable. His hair was powdered and perfectly arranged, his military uniform precise, each button gleaming. Behind him were four men also in military dress, whom she assumed to be the general’s aides.
A bell might as well have rung through the chamber. The chatter died, and the men all made for their places. The congressmen took their seats about the room in armchairs. A quick count told her there were about twenty present, plus the onlookers gathered wherever they could find room. Mr. Randel stood with a bevy of gentlemen from town.
Lark’s eyes followed Washington as he strode across the floor to the chair positioned to the right of the congressional president. A hush blanketed them as he sat, so she could hear the far-off chime of a clock striking noon.
The president, whom she knew to be General Mifflin, rose from his seat and turned to Washington. He cleared his throat and lowered his chin a notch, but it did nothing to hide the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Good day to you, General. We welcome you here today most graciously. The United States in Congress assembled are prepared to receive your communication.”
As Washington stood again, Lark’s fingers wrapped around the railing. She and Sena both leaned into it, getting as close as possible to the proceedings.
The general reached into his pocket and pulled out several sheaves of paper folded together, took his time in smoothing them out. Though Lark couldn’t see his face, she saw the rise of his shoulders as he drew in a breath. Did even he, arguably the greatest man in these United States, need steadying from time to time?
“Mr. President.” The general’s voice rang out to fill the room, deep and steady…but tight, as if barely restraining emotion. “The great events on which my resignation depended having at length taken place, I have now the honor of offering my sincere congratulations to Congress, and of presenting myself before them, to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my country.”
Lark blinked back tears. She heard several sniffles from behind her.
Washington paused a moment, shifted slightly. “Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty, and pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of becomin
g a respectable nation, I resign with satisfaction the appointment I accepted with diffidence; a diffidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which, however, was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of the Union, and the patronage of heaven.”
Lark’s fingers tightened still more as she tried to stem the tide of…what was it? Pride, perhaps, in her nation and one of its leaders. In the realization that he spoke the truth, that theirs was a country so young, yet so blessed by the Lord. A country won through the courage and faith of countless good men.
“The successful termination of the war has verified the most sanguine expectations; and my gratitude for the interposition of Providence and the assistance I have received from my countrymen increases with every review of the momentous contest.”
He went on to commend those who had served, those who served still. With each syllable, it seemed as though his emotion grew. Yet rather than choke off his words, it filled them until they resounded within Lark.
“I consider it an indispensable duty to close this last act of my official life by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God and those who have the superintendence of them to His holy keeping.”
He separated one page from the rest and held it out. Lark nearly gasped when she saw his hand tremble. “Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theater of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.”
“Oh, I wish he wouldn’t,” Sena murmured, fingers pressed to her lips.
Lark well understood that sentiment. What kind of spirit must it take to be so deserving of honor that one could control an entire country if one chose, yet of such humility that one would refuse?
General Mifflin accepted the first paper, then the rest when Washington handed them over. He swallowed hard. “The United States in Congress assembled receive, with emotions too affecting for utterance, the solemn resignation of the authorities under which you have led their troops with success through a perilous and doubtful war.”
Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland Page 8