by Kate Dolan
Why had he volunteered to go to Joppa? It would be too late to retract his offer now. Perhaps he could stay in Joppa and insist his sister visit him there. Then she need never pass judgment on his plantation.
His plantation. He would be leaving it again without ever having sorted out the mess from his last absence. He still had no overseer, and now there was no time to hire or buy another. Could he trust John to sweat and prize the tobacco into hogsheads? If not done properly, it would spoil on the journey to England, and all his profits for the year would be lost.
But he didn’t really have much choice.
Sighing deeply, Josiah picked up the second letter and broke the seal. The correspondence came from a house of business with an unfamiliar name. After wading though flourishing lines of salutations and compliments, Josiah reached the substance of the letter and felt his blood run cold.
He was in debt. The tobacco shipment of last year had not earned enough to pay for the goods ordered from London.
He, Josiah Throckmorton, stood in debt to creditors in London. Moreover, the creditors were strangers, his factor having sold the debt to some unfamiliar firm. He fairly chafed at the indignity. What would his sister say if she knew that, even with his reduced standard of living, he had not been able to turn a profit on his plantation?
“He’s here!” Edwina turned from the window gleefully and nudged Caroline, who stood pondering the contents of a large pot next to the hearth. “Don’t you want to see?”
“See? No. I’m not going to see him, and he’s not going to see me. Besides, we are no longer engaged, remember? He’s only coming to do business with Father.” Caroline went to the shelves and selected a wooden trencher she thought would be just big enough to hold the ham that cooled in the pot. She had boiled and cooled it as instructed in a small volume of cookery her father had miraculously produced from his shelves earlier in the day. Now that she had written instruction, she could manage any domestic task with ease.
The next step was to take off the skin. Caroline looked at the wet ham dubiously. How did one take the skin off a ham? Stabbing a long fork into the meat, she took up a knife and tried to slide it under the skin. The knife slid off the outside and clattered to the floor. Caroline picked it up, wiped it on her apron and tried again. This time, the entire ham scooted off the trencher and plopped into a pile of ashes near the hearth. It was too big to wipe off with her apron. Maybe she could dunk it back in the cooking water to rinse it? But she had planned to use that water to make soup. She could, however, take the ham outside and pour some of the cooking water over it.
Stabbing the recalcitrant ham with another fork, she picked it up with both fork handles. “Edwina, bring a pitcher of water and come outside with me,” she ordered.
“Why are we going outside? I thought you didn’t want to see Mr. Throckmorton.”
Caroline glanced out the small window. She could see no sign of Mr. Throckmorton or his horse—Charles’s horse, as she would always think of it. The horse could be in the stable, and Mr. Throckmorton in the front room. Or, if his errand had been a brief one, he might have already left. Either way, she could safely step out for a moment without risking a meeting.
She lifted the door latch with her elbow and pushed her way out, backside first. “Edwina, come this instant! He’s not out here at the moment but may soon return.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Carter.”
Caroline felt her cheeks flush, and she wanted to run straight back into the house. Instead, she took a deep breath and turned, trying to muster as much grace as she could.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Throckmorton,” she replied. Her former betrothed bowed courteously and she began to curtsey from habit, until the ham in her arms quickly reminded her of the impossibility of this feat.
Now her face felt positively hot. Here she stood, in dirty working clothes, holding a sooty ham and no doubt covered with soot herself. Mr. Throckmorton, by contrast, wore stylish traveling clothes and looked rather elegant. Caroline dropped her gaze.
“Here’s your water. Where do you—” Edwina charged out the door and had to stop abruptly to keep from ramming into her sister, who had barely moved beyond the doorway.
For a moment, no one spoke or moved.
Then Edwina shivered. “Um, did you want me to pour this water…?”
Caroline turned to her sister. “Yes, yes. Mr. Throckmorton, if you will excuse us?” Now she had to look at him. What would she see in his eyes? Disgust?
No, it was pity. But then—
“Please, allow me.” He reached out to take the unwieldy ham.
“What? No, no.” Caroline tried to step back, but her sister blocked that retreat.
“I insist.” He took a step closer.
“But your clothes…” She moved to the side.
“Will only get dirty as soon as the horse crosses the first stream. Please.”
Something in the tone of his voice made her look him fully in the face, perhaps for the first time.
“Allow me to dirty my clothes for a worthy cause.” He smiled gently, as if he enjoyed rescuing maidens from difficult hams.
“Very well, sir.” Caroline fought the sudden urge to giggle. “I surrender the prisoner unto you.” She thrust the ham at him and took a quick step away, watching to see how he would react. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“Whoa! And a fiendish one he is, too.” Josiah still smiled a bit, but his brow furrowed in concentration as he struggled to keep the ham from slipping out of his hands.
Caroline stepped forward again and reached out to help, ashamed that she had not been more careful in handing off the mess. When she saw that Josiah had regained control of the slippery meat, she relieved her sister of the water she had been holding.
“Thank you, Edwina. Why don’t you go back inside now?”
Edwina stopped shivering and stayed to watch.
Caroline and Josiah moved toward each other and nearly collided.
“The prisoner is ready for his sentence, Madam Executioner.” Josiah held the ham as far away from his coat as he could. “I believe he has been sentenced to a shower.”
Caroline smiled but said nothing in reply. Carefully, she tipped the pitcher of water over the ham and succeeded in rinsing off at least half of the ashes and soot without splashing Josiah. She turned, handed the empty pitcher to Edwina then stepped back to retrieve the ham. Unfortunately, Josiah moved forward at the same moment and the two of them did collide this time, with a ham sandwiched neatly in the middle.
“Oh, it’s all over your coat!”
Josiah glanced at the big sooty smear with momentary dismay; then his face brightened. “I surely would have done the same thing at some dingy inn, or…” He paused and glanced at the dense growth of trees less than a stone’s throw away. “…wherever we sleep tonight.”
“Tonight? You travel today?”
“Yes. Your father and I start for Joppa this afternoon.”
“My father? This afternoon? But that can’t be? Surely…” Caroline looked at the house. Turning back suddenly, she grabbed the ham and headed toward the kitchen. “Edwina, get the door for me,” she ordered. After a moment, she called, “Thank you, Mr. Throckmorton,” but did not look back before she hurried into the house.
As she brushed past the chairs at the dining table, Caroline’s gaze went immediately to Charles’s place. Empty, as they all were now, but his would never be filled. He would never again sit at their table. Caroline felt a lump grow in her throat as she pushed the door open into the front room.
She found her father in his usual place, but he was not engrossed in a book or working on his accounts. Instead, his hands lay motionless in his lap, and he stared out the window as if watching for someone. She stood a few paces away in respectful silence. After a time, she wondered if he had heard her enter. She moved to the side and took two steps on an extremely squeaky floorboard.
“Ah, Caroline, my dear.” He turned to her and smiled.
“You look a fright. Surely, your mother is not working you so hard in the kitchen?”
Caroline glanced down at her dirty arms and gown. Her mother never would have let her appear in such a distressful state. “Mother has not been near the kitchen all day. I believe she has a headache.”
“Again?” Her father arched one eyebrow in mild surprise.
“Again. It makes no difference, now that I have your book.” Caroline gestured toward the shelves and smiled her thanks. The smile instantly faded as she remembered the purpose of her visit. “Mr. Throckmorton says he is riding with you to Joppa, and you leave today.”
“Goodness, my dear. Whenever did you see Mr. Throckmorton?”
“Is it true?”
“And looking like that, too? My heavens! If that isn’t enough to scare a gentleman off—”
“Is it true? Are you leaving today?”
“Yes, yes, all true enough. Mr. Throckmorton accompanies me to Joppa, and we leave this afternoon. As soon as I finish instructions for Harper.” Carter looked over at his desk. “I just need to add a few more—”
“How can you leave today?”
“We must, my dear. The assizes begin soon, and it will take many days to ride all the way to Joppa.”
“Ride? Why do you not take a boat?”
“The route overland will be more direct, although certainly not as easy. And we do not have a vessel large enough to comfortably travel such a distance, and we’ve…” He sighed. “…no means to rent one. Besides, I…” He looked out the window again, and Caroline knew the real reason he did not wish to travel by water. Charles’s face appeared in her mind, and she blinked to keep back tears. Her father, too, looked as if it took a great deal of effort to keep his emotions in check. And he looked so old.
She took his hand impulsively. “Father, you will need someone to assist you. Take me. Please.”
‘No, no, Caroline. You could not possibly—”
“I could, Father, I know I could help.”
“Yes, you can help by staying right here at Hill Crest.”
“No, Father, I can help you in Joppa! I can help you on the journey, I can—”
“Caroline! You have done enough journeying for one lifetime! You need to stop thinking about what you want to do and think about what the rest of us need.”
She snatched her hand away and hugged it to herself as if she had been slapped. After a moment, she rocked back on her heels as she watched him warily.
“I need—I really and truly need—you to stay at Hill Crest. There is much to be managed, and so very little I can trust to an indentured overseer in my absence. The new tenant family will arrive soon to farm the western fields. Someone must see to their needs. And to the needs of Harper and the field hands we have left.” Her father blinked then continued quickly. “Charles would have managed these things. Now you must.”
Caroline felt tears spill out of her eyes. Of course, she could not travel to Joppa. It was her traveling that had caused so much grief. And she was needed at home, that was obvious. Her mother rarely left her room these days, and her sisters wandered the house in aimless circles, consenting to work only when hunger drove them toward the kitchen. If left alone, they would all starve within the week.
“You see that, don’t you?” her father asked gently.
“Yes, Father. I’m sorry. But I was worried about you making the journey alone—”
“My dear, I shall not be alone. Mr. Throckmorton accompanies me. He is a barrister, and I am sure I can trust him to represent my interests most handsomely. He did take care of you, remember?”
Caroline recoiled a bit when she thought of being bound in a sail and carted off to the ship like a wild animal. If that was how Mr. Throckmorton took care of people, she could not imagine her father would fare well on his trip.
“I am not sure you can trust anyone too closely,” she said, reaching out again to take his hand. “Do take care of yourself, Father.” She thought of debtor’s prison and shivered.
“I shall, I shall. And we will be home before you realize we’ve gone.” He smiled.
But neither of them looked convinced.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Earlier, Josiah had not given much thought to the prospect, since all his energies had been consumed with making plans for the trip to Joppa, leaving instructions for the servants and the disquieting visits to Hill Crest. But now, as the horses picked their way slowly along the overgrown road, he had plenty of time to think about whether he should move back to England.
His deliberations started about a quarter of an hour into their journey to Joppa, after he and Carter had finished exchanging pleasantries and observations about the weather they were likely to have. Lulled by the easy rhythm of the saddle and the steady cascade of leaves from the trees, both men fell into solitary reflection.
Josiah was then hounded by a nagging, disagreeable thought that he had pushed to back of his mind. What was it? Oh, yes. His sister and her husband would be coming to Maryland as part of some sort of inspection tour.
Instead of being posted abroad, his brother-in-law had apparently received a position in the Customs House. So, rather than enjoying a sinecure in one of the elegant capitals of Europe, Sir James was forced to face the rigors of travel among the primitive tobacco colonies. Josiah had to smile to himself at the thought; James Davenport had scarcely lifted a finger in service to his country before, despite the numerous appointments he had held. Now, even if he accomplished nothing on his tour, he would at least have to lift several fingers just to get himself to shore. He would be utterly disgusted and overwhelmed by the rustic conditions.
And his sister! Why on Earth was she traveling with her husband? The journey would be difficult enough for a gentleman, but for a lady accustomed to luxury and ease! Josiah could think of no possible reason for her to accompany her husband unless they were planning to stay in the colonies. That did not seem likely, since she had hinted he should accompany them on the return trip to manage his ailing uncle’s estate. In fact, the idea of his sister remaining in the colonies was simply unthinkable. She would faint away the moment she first set eyes on a shoddy Maryland planter’s house.
His, for instance.
Hill Crest was a little better. Having been built on a stone foundation and enlarged with a relatively solid addition, the house was stable and almost respectable, for a family of small means.
His own house was not respectable or even secure. After viewing the neat construction of the new tobacco barn and comparing it with the sagging structure of his house, Josiah had suddenly realized the problem. The wood posts and sills had been sunk directly into the earth and were, by this time, probably fairly rotten. He could expect the house to collapse within a few years, perhaps sooner. Maybe even before he returned—
A sudden crash in the nearby woods interrupted his thoughts a little too realistically. Josiah yelped and yanked hard on the reins, causing his horse to rear. When both he and horse had recovered their composure, he looked over and saw that a vine-covered tree trunk had collapsed harmlessly several feet away. He coughed to cover his embarrassment as Carter turned his horse and rode back toward him.
“Mr. Throckmorton! Are you harmed, sir?”
Josiah felt his face flush and sought to turn the subject as quickly as possible. “Please, uh, sir, do call me Josiah. We shall be traveling together many days, and as I am now rather well acquainted with your family—”
“Yes, of course. But whatever happened? I’ve never seen that horse behave so. Did you see a snake?”
“Uh, er, no. It was that tree.” He gestured to his left and noted with chagrin that it was really no more than a sapling. “The fall startled me—and the horse.”
Carter laughed. “That was quite a ‘startle,’ Josiah!”
“Sir.” Josiah drew his horse right up next to Carter’s for his confession. “I was thinking of my house. It is in a rather sorry state. I fear it may need some major reconstruction…” He tra
iled off vaguely in shame. This was, after all, the house he would have brought Miss Carter into.
“Should be about ready to collapse within a year or two, I would think,” Carter replied matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“Let us ride.” Carter nudged his horse forward. “The road gets wider up here, we can continue our conversation.”
“You think my house is going to collapse?” Josiah yelled incredulously.
“Well, yes,” Carter called back.
“Why?” Did it look that bad?
“It’s about due. Langley built the house about eight years ago. A house such as that only lasts about ten years, less if a big storm hits.”
“Only lasts ten years!” Josiah realized he could stop shouting now that the trail had, indeed, widened and Carter had waited for him to ride up alongside. “But why?”
“Surely you’ve noticed, Mr. Throckmorton—”
“Josiah.”
Carter ignored the correction, “—that your house lacks a true foundation.”
“Of course.” Well, he had noticed, if only recently.
“I’m sure Langley planned to build a new house when this one collapsed.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Not really. He would have planned a new house closer to the fields under cultivation. The fields nearest the house would be used up by then. Are they not nearly so now?”
“Well, yes.” Josiah had already admitted rather more than he wanted to, and it seemed Carter could guess at much more. His position fell with every admission.
Of course, he remembered almost with a laugh, it didn’t matter anymore. Carter’s position had to be worse than his. And he was not going to marry the man’s daughter in any event.
“So, you should begin scouting sites for a new house. This is a good time of year to do it; you see the lay of the land better without all the growth on the trees.”
Again Carter was lecturing him on what he should do with his plantation. But he did have a point; if Josiah was going to have to build a new house, he might as well put it closer to the fields. Except that the new kitchen would then be left behind and the expense of it would be a total waste. The kitchen had a stone foundation. As did Hill Crest.