by Kate Dolan
“Yes, well, I hope you’re feeling better today, Mother.” Caroline looked disdainfully at the large pile of wood next to her mother’s fire. So, that’s where it had all gone.
“I am better, but only a little. It saddened me to think my eldest daughter had not the time to visit her ailing mother.”
“I’m afraid I had pressing business.” Caroline looked pointedly at Johanna, perched on the foot of her mother’s bed. “We ran out of firewood for the kitchen fire. Johanna said we would need a great deal of wood to bake.”
“And so you do, my dear. I am so glad Johanna is being helpful.”
“Well, she’d be more helpful if she accompanied me downstairs and refilled the pail of water she emptied.”
“I did not empty it,” Johanna protested. “Georgiana did.”
“No, I did not,” Georgiana responded from her seat by the fire. “There was still water left after I was done.”
“Yes, but not enough for a mouse,” Edwina piped up as she entered from the hallway.
“Edwina, whatever has happened to your hair?” her mother demanded.
Edwina squinted at the hairs in front of her face and patted the top of her head quizzically.
“It’s sticking out every which way. You look like you’ve got a frightened cat on your head,” Georgiana declared. “What have you been doing?”
“Yes, what have you been doing?” Caroline felt rage creep into her voice. “I thought you were helping me search for the slaves.”
Edwina shrugged. “The wheatfields were empty—harvested quite some time back—so, I came inside. I’ve been reading in my bed.”
“Why not in here by the fire with us?” her mother asked.
Edwina shrugged again. “I was under the covers. It was plenty warm.”
“Fine,” Caroline snorted. “You’ve been reading, Johanna has been talking to Mother and I imagine Georgiana has spent the better part of the morning choosing which shade of crewel to use for the roses in her embroidery.”
“I have not!” Georgiana retorted.
Caroline ignored her. “Doesn’t anybody want to eat?”
“Heavens, yes. But no more mush, please.”
“No, I cannot stand another bite.”
“Is dinner ready?”
“No! Dinner is not ready!” Caroline roared. “The fire to cook dinner is not even ready. And dinner will never be ready unless I get some help in the kitchen.”
“Oh,” her mother sighed softly. “I never raised my girls to do the cooking. Servants should manage the kitchen.”
Caroline tried to keep her voice calm. “Mother, we do not have servants to manage the kitchen anymore.”
“I try not to think of it.” Her mother lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes. “I am so very sorry, girls.”
“Oh, Mother.” Tears edged Georgiana’s eyes.
“I am sorry, too. But if we don’t think of it, we will starve up here,” Edwina announced quietly. “I’ll help you, Caroline.”
“Thank you.” Caroline flashed her a grateful look. “Georgiana? Johanna?”
“Oh, very well.” Georgiana stood with reluctance.
“Someone must stay and keep Mother company,” Johanna insisted. “May I, Caroline?”
Caroline forced herself to smile, and the effort made her feel as if her face would crack. Was this the first time she had smiled all day? “Certainly, you may keep Mother company, after you take care of a few household duties. All ladies have a responsibility to take care of their houses, you understand.”
“Yes…” Johanna slid off the bed looking doubtful, but she followed Caroline out the door. “What sort of household duties, Caroline?”
“Very well,” Caroline said to her sisters as they assembled obediently around the worktable. “We shall divide this receipt into different tasks, and each of us shall have a different job to do. We shall have our beefsteak pie in no time at all.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderfullius,” Johanna gushed. “What task can I do, Caroline? I’m hungry.”
Caroline leaned close to her book to concentrate on the receipt then read aloud, “‘Cook some bits of suet or other shortening in a large frying pan, then brown the steak with a finely chopped onion.’ Very well. You may chop an onion. Finely, please.”
“And where do I get an onion?”
Caroline groaned. Why could she find nothing in her own house?
“Oh, I know,” Edwina announced. She hopped over in front of the firebox and lifted out a piece of the floor. Underneath was a small root cellar full of onions, potatoes, turnips and other vegetables. She grinned. “It’s like a dungeon, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Caroline, smiling easily this time. “Let us release some of the prisoners, shall we?”
“Ooh, may we have carrots with our pie?” Georgiana asked.
Caroline looked at her book. “There are carrots in the pie.”
“Well, may we have some more carrots outside the pie?”
“Why?”
“I want them cooked with molasses.”
“Mmm. That will be delectableful.” Johanna licked her lips.
“No. We are almost out of molasses. We need to save it to have with the mush,” Caroline said.
“Well, I’m tired of mush,” Georgiana said. “We don’t want any more mush, do we, ladies? So, we don’t need to save the molasses.”
“Yes, we do. We might want it for something else. The carrots will be just fine with gravy inside the pie.”
“Well, I want carrots with molasses and so does Johanna. By what right do you reign over us all, Queen Caroline?”
Caroline decided not to answer that last remark, although she felt her father had in fact given her the right to effectively reign over the household. “Fine. You may cook the carrots any way you wish.”
Georgiana’s smile of triumph quickly faded as she examined the carrots Edwina had pulled from the root cellar. “They’re so wrinkly and dirty,” she muttered. “What is wrong with these carrots? They’re supposed to be smooth and orange.”
Caroline smothered a chuckle. If Georgiana had spent any time working in the garden, she might have realized that some vegetables need to be peeled. But she said nothing, enjoying her sister’s obvious distress.
“Shall I peel them carrots for you, Miss Georgiana?”
The four sisters turned as one to see who had spoken. When they saw Leda standing next to the woodbin, the three youngest sisters gaped as if simultaneously struck with apoplexy.
Caroline, however, felt struck with sudden inspiration. “Please do, Leda.”
“But, Caroline,” Johanna said under her breath as Leda stepped over to the water pail to rinse her hands, “she’s…Mother would not want her in the house!”
“Shush,” Caroline retorted as Leda came back toward them.
“Shall I draw more water, Miss Carter?”
“Thank you, Leda. That would be welcome.”
“Caroline!” Georgiana hissed. “Those dirty slaves should not be in the house!”
“She’s no dirtier than you are,” Caroline responded, “and I’ll wager she knows how to cook better than any of us.”
“But…in the house!” Georgiana moaned.
Another inspiration struck. “In Charles Town, you realize, black slaves do all the housework for ladies of fashion,” Caroline said in an offhand manner.
“Truly?” Edwina asked.
“They do, indeed. Ladies find their slaves have a much more respectful attitude than that displayed by the typical indentured servant, such as Mary.” None of the sisters had liked Mary, so Caroline thought this observation would seal the argument.
All remained silent in thought until Leda returned with a dripping pail of water.
“Will she always fetch water for us?” Johanna whispered.
“If we wish her to, yes,” Caroline replied.
“But how do you know she can cook?” Georgiana demanded.
“Who do you think does all the c
ooking for the men in the quarters?”
“Well, perhaps we sold all of the women slaves who could cook!”
“Georgiana, see reason. She can’t know any less than we do. She won’t mind getting her hands dirty.” Caroline smiled ever-so-slightly. “And she can make the carrots look smooth and orange.”
Georgiana threw up her hands in exasperation. “Ooh, very well. But Mother won’t be pleased.”
Johanna began to look worried.
“Mother need not know, at least not at first.” Caroline found herself thinking aloud. “Leda will teach us what we need to know to run the household, or at least prepare food. By the time Mother has tired of her headache—”
Johanna opened her mouth to object, but Caroline continued. “You know very well that when the prospect of some entertainment comes along, Mother’s headaches always disappear. And by the time this happens, we will know what we need to know, and Leda may go back to working in the fields. Or,” she said, glancing slyly at her sisters, “if we find we enjoy having help in the kitchen, we convince Mother to let her stay.”
“That sounds reasonable,” said Edwina. Johanna nodded meekly. Georgiana gave the newcomer a suspicious glance then looked down at the carrots in her hand and nodded her assent.
“Very well. Leda!” Caroline closed her cookbook as she motioned for the woman to step over to the table. “Show us how to make a beefsteak pie.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
"This is Joppa Town?”
“Yes, sir. Ain’t it a fine courthouse, sir?” The man fairly beamed with pride as he looked across the muddy street to a new, two-story red brick building.
“Yes, but where is the town?” Josiah looked around in consternation. Clustered around the simple brick courthouse were numerous ramshackle huts where rum and less potent drinks were being served to men standing or sitting in the street. It appeared as though the proprietors of these ill-constructed establishments lived in them as well. There were no other houses in sight, and, more strangely, no shops or even offices for barristers and clerks and others in the legal profession.
John Carter motioned for him to come out into the street, so Josiah picked up the ridiculously expensive tankard of cider he had just purchased and walked over to where Carter stood reading a list of notices posted out in front of the courthouse.
“I don’t know any of the justices this term.”
“What?” Josiah was still looking for signs of the promised town.
“I said I don’t believe I am acquainted with any of the justices sitting this term. The last time I attended, when the court sat at Simm’s Choice, one of the justices was from our part of the county. This term, they all appear to be northern men.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just interesting, that’s all.” Carter took a sip of his drink and looked around thoughtfully. “It’s good to see the courthouse finished at last.”
“Yes, but where is the rest of the town?”
“Well, here, of course.”
“This isn’t a town.”
“Well, what do you need a town for?”
“Towns have shops, and—”
“What do you need from a shop? Didn’t you just get an order in from London in August?”
“I don’t need a shop. I was just trying to explain that I expected Joppa Town to have buildings other than a courthouse.”
“Well, they’re building a gaol.” Carter gestured to a plot of land next to the courthouse.
Josiah just sighed in response. There was no town. He certainly could not expect Eleanor to meet him here. He would have to help Carter complete his business as quickly as possible so he could return to Hanset and prepare for her arrival.
He looked again at Carter, who sipped his drink with apparent calm as he watched the preparations for court days around him. Only a nervous quiver in the man’s knee betrayed his apprehension. “Did you see your action posted?”
“Yes. I don’t know the justice. He’s from the Provincial Court, riding the circuit, of course, so I shouldn’t expect to know him.” Carter smiled, but he took a bigger draught of his drink and began to shift from side to side.
Josiah well understood his anxiety. A debt action this large would have to be handled by the higher court justices during one of the assizes rather than the county justices who handled matters of everyday business. It could not be a comforting thought. He glanced around for an idea to change the topic of conversation.
A slovenly woman emerged from a thicket of trees several yards away, tightening the laces on her bodice as she walked. She brushed a few leaves from her skirt then headed toward one of the drinking establishments at a deliberate pace. Not much food for conversation there, at least none that Josiah wished to bring up with the man who was supposed to have become his father-in-law. That reminded him of Miss Carter and her struggle with the uncooperative ham. An unexpected chuckle escaped his lips.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking of something mildly amusing.”
“Well, what was it?” Carter smiled plaintively, asking him to share the joke.
But he couldn’t admit he had been laughing at the man’s daughter. “Oh, it was nothing, indeed. Just a little domestic difficulty. Trouble with a ham.”
“A ham?” Carter looked around, as if trying to see what had inspired Josiah to think of hams.
“Er, yes. I must have been thinking of dinner. Will we find any in this ‘town?’”
“I dare say we will. James Goodwin sets a fair table for his guests, and his wife is a most excellent cook.”
“Oh?” Josiah was pleased Carter at least seemed to know where they would dine in this rustic settlement, but he doubted they could expect much civilized hospitality anywhere nearby.
“Yes, and, indeed, it is time for us to be setting out, else the best beds will be spoken for.” Carter drained his tankard and looked as if he expected Josiah to do the same. Josiah took a deep drink, decided the rest of the cider was not worth the effort and gestured for Carter to lead the way to return the tankards and collect the horses.
The ride to the Goodwin house was long and silent. Josiah could think of nothing to say to cheer his companion; the effort to make even idle conversation seemed too great. Oddly, it reminded him of dining at his sister’s house in London, of the awkward time after dinner when the ladies would retire to discuss whatever ladies discussed on their own and the gentlemen, often only Josiah and his brother-in-law, would drink their port in silence. Josiah would ask a few questions about the crown’s interests, and James would answer, sometimes at great length; but he would find his attention starting to drift. Before he knew it, his brother-in-law had ceased talking, and silence reigned once more.
It was difficult then to think of anything else to ask, for Josiah was always certain he would insult his host by asking about something that had already been discussed at length. James never proffered questions of his own; and so they would sit, waiting for the proper amount of time to pass before they rejoined the ladies.
He felt nearly the same sense of guilt now, though he did not think he had been particularly inattentive to any of Carter’s remarks. He simply could not think of anything to question or discuss that would not bring up unpleasant thoughts. Their entire acquaintance rested upon a series of awkward events: the engagement, the voyage with Charles and now the business of this trip.
Moreover, Josiah realized he felt increasingly guilty about the Carter family’s financial straits. To be sure, he was not responsible for their excessive household spending, but the debt incurred in Charles Town was his doing entirely. At that point, Caroline had been his responsibility. But what could he do? He was himself in debt. It made his head ache just to think about it.
A gust of wind suddenly whipped a loose strand of hair into his eyes. He pushed the errant wisp behind his ear and blinked at the bright sunlight. The shadows were growing longer, but the sun still glowed in a radiant blue sky.
It seemed fresh, as if the wind had blown away all dullness and impurities.
The bright sky and the bracing air all seemed worlds away from the somber, formal dining room in London where he had just imagined himself. There would be many more such evenings, he supposed, when he returned to England. Perhaps not, though, if he managed his uncle’s estate and did not spend the whole winter season in London.
And, of course, his sister and brother-in-law could not invite him to dinner in London if they were out traveling to all parts of the world on colonial inspection tours.
Eleanor in Maryland. The thought remained inconceivable. Josiah wished Carter’s legal business had come at a time when the Provincial Court met in the capital city of Annapolis. The journey would have been no longer; and while by no means a true city, Annapolis would have afforded enough civilized amenities for Josiah to entertain her there, and thus avoid the embarrassing visit to his plantation.
“Josiah!”
Carter had slowed his horse to allow Josiah to ride alongside where the path widened on the right; the shouted warning was necessary to stop him from plowing directly into Carter’s horse.
“My apologies, sir.” Josiah felt himself flush slightly as he reined in his mount and steered to Carter’s side.
“I was thinking of legal business,” Carter said, and glanced over at him as if to make sure Josiah was not about to suddenly ride his horse off the road. “Your legal business, to be specific.”
“My legal business, sir?” Good grief! What was his legal business in Joppa supposed to be? He had forgotten entirely that he had professed to have any.
“Yes. I know not whether you need local counsel, but if you do, I heartily recommend James Goodwin. He speaks well before the court and even has a copy of Lord Coke’s Reports.”
“Did he study at the Middle or Inner Temple?” As an alumnus of the Middle Temple, Josiah felt the students of the latter institution suffered a lower quality of legal education.
Carter just looked at him quizzically. “Temple? He didn’t study at a temple. He’s an attorney,” he sniffed, “not a priest.”