by Kate Dolan
She could now see three horses in the yard, surrounded by a veritable throng of people. Her father had returned! He was at least a week sooner than expected. In fact, with the specter of debtor’s prison he had laid before her, she feared she might not see him for years. She ran the rest of the way to join the group, not caring that she would appear unladylike before the two guests.
“Father! It is so good to have you back with us.” She hugged him as a little girl might do. “How is it you are back so soon? Surely, the court did not adjourn early?” Her father always stayed for the full session, which seemed to lengthen each year.
“Ah, Caroline, Caroline.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I bring great news—and I could not wait for the end of the session.”
“It is most wondrous, Caroline,” Georgiana interjected. “Father says we have money again!”
“He has even bought two new servants already, and has ordered more!” Johanna bounced with excitement as she spoke.
Edwina laid a hand on her arm. She seemed to be the only one capable of speaking in a normal tone of voice. “You shan’t have to work in the kitchen anymore, Caroline. We will be as we used to.”
Caroline blinked, and suddenly felt as if her mouth had been hanging open for some time. “How can this be?”
She looked at her mother, who was enthusiastically giving orders to the woman and man who had accompanied her father home. They must be the new servants. How could they possibly afford new servants?
Her father waved her concern away. “I will tell you the whole story presently.”
“A relative has paid all those silly debts. So now we are rich! Is that not wonderfullius?” Johanna sighed with glee.
Relative? What relative did they have who could—or would—pay off such a large sum? Her father’s sister, Aunt Bennett, and her husband owned a plantation somewhat larger than their own; but their household was just that much more grand, so that if her family’s expenses exceeded their income her Aunt’s probably did as well. Her father had no other family living, and her mother’s family had no money to speak of. Who then could have paid the debt?
“Father, what relative is this?”
“Oh, Caroline, someone you do not know. Indeed, I do not know him—it is a distant relative of my family in England.” John Carter turned and herded her sisters into the house before she could ask him anything further.
Why was she not overjoyed, as everyone else in her family seemed to be? She could rest; she would no longer have to work. There was no need to fret over her poor cooking skills. She would not need to worry if they had stored enough cooking grease and ashes for the soapmaking or whether the milk was enough to last through dinner or whether it was time to dip more candles. Someone else would now tend to these matters.
But that thought seemed very odd. It was her household—her mother’s, really, but her mother would not care about such things. Shouldn’t she know when they were ready to make soap or if they needed candles first? Shouldn’t she know how much milk the cows produced and whether they ran low on West Indies sugar? How could she run a household if she did not know these very basic elements? How had her mother carried on for so many years in ignorance?
Her ruminations had carried her through the yard and into the front room without her really being aware of it.
“Mother?” She sought out her mother on the far side of the room, where she pointed out dusty corners to the newcomers. “Mother, may I ask you a question?”
“Certainly, my dear.” Her mother beamed. “You may go ahead and get started on the dusting, Edward. Alice, you go on to the kitchen and see to some supper for us. We will expect nothing elaborate, of course, on your first day.”
“Mother, when do we usually make our soap for the year?”
“Soap? Goodness, how would I know such a thing? You would have to ask Margaret, she’s always had the keeping of the house.” Her mother stopped, and then laughed as if she had just made the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, but Margaret is here no longer! I do not yet know who our new housekeeper will be, but I fear this Alice is too young and inexperienced for the task.”
“Do you think?” Alice appeared to be a few years older than Caroline was herself; and she resented the implication that someone of her age was incapable of managing a house.
“Why do you ask of soap? We’ve enough to wash for a good while yet, surely?”
“I suppose. I had hoped to make some with a scent. Something to mask the smell of pork grease.”
“Make soap? You had planned to make soap? My poor girl, to what straits had we reduced you?” She gathered Caroline in her arms awkwardly and kissed her forehead. “You go and rest and think no more of such things. In a few days, I daresay this will all seem like only a bad dream.”
What was so very wrong with making soap? Caroline smiled absently at her mother and looked toward the stairs. She could rest. She needed to think about the housekeeper position.
And did her mother say the new manservant’s name was Edward?
Chapter Thirty-Four
At this rate, he could earn enough money to pay off the added debt in four years, assuming he did as well at each of the quarterly sessions. Josiah counted the notes again to be sure.
Could he do this again sixteen more times? And if the price of tobacco went down again, it would take longer, since his fees were pegged to the value of the local commodity while the debt was fixed in English currency.
Well, there was precious little he could do about it now. He had assumed the debts, and his name and signature could not be retracted now even if he wanted to. And he did not want to.
But he did not have to earn the money to pay this debt himself. It was silly to work so hard when all he had to do was ask his brother for…a loan of sorts. He’d never pay it back. He would be as irresponsible as Carter. But it was his money, his family’s money. Was not he entitled to a share of it? Borrowing from his brother was not actually borrowing.
“All business concluded to your satisfaction, Mr. Throckmorton?”
Josiah looked up from his papers and uneaten breakfast to see Goodwin take a seat across from him at the table. “Good morning, Mr. Goodwin.”
“I see you’ve amassed quite a collection of fees this session. A most impressive showing.”
“I would give half the stack for a decent mug of coffee.”
“What? I don’t understand the fascination with those bitter white beans.”
“They’re not white after you roast them. Have you ever tasted coffee?”
“Roasted, you say? I’ve not tried them roasted.”
“What do you mean?”
“A client paid me in goods last year. A spool of lace, some excellent rum, salt and some spices and coffee beans, for which I’d really no use. But he insisted I would love the coffee so long as it was cooked in exceedingly hot water and served with plenty of cream. So we boiled the beans, and when we were certain they had been in the water long enough, we ate them mashed with cream.”
Josiah winced. “I can see how that might sour you on the thought of coffee. It’s a beverage, you know.”
“Indeed?” Goodwin laughed heartily. “So, we threw out the good part, eh?”
“Actually, you needed to roast the beans before boiling them, so you probably had no ‘good part.’ But, sir, if you are ever in the vicinity of Elkridge Landing, you must pay me a visit. I will endeavor to return a portion of your hospitality, and,” he said, smiling, “I am fairly certain I will always have a supply of coffee on hand. My servants find it most disagreeable, too.”
“Very well, sir, you may expect to see me at your door at some point betimes.” Goodwin took an enormous bite from a cold turkey leg.
You should not have issued that invitation. By the time he comes, you will already be back in England.
“Do you head back today?” his host asked between mouthfuls.
“What? Today? Good heavens, no.” He meant to Hanset, of course. “That is, yes, I do,”
Josiah corrected himself. “As soon as I settle my accounts with you.”
“Ah, good.” Goodwin licked his fingers. “Let’s see…we’ve a fortnight and three additional nights lodging and meals, stable for the horse and my fee for drawing up the papers for Carter’s debts. That comes to…”
“You don’t charge extra for hot water, then?”
“Hot water? Extra? You jest sir, do you not?”
“It is not an unknown practice.”
“Did you ever have any hot water while you were here?”
“Well, to think of it, not very often.”
His host laughed while he excused himself to see if he had any more papers requiring Josiah’s signature.
No hot water. That could explain why he felt so worn and dirty. He had assumed it was the unaccustomed business with so many men who bore so little apparent concern for hygiene. But weeks of hurried washing with cold water and too many nights in a hired bed had left him feeling positively wretched. He thought longingly of his own bath and bed at Hanset.
And then, in his mind, he saw a line of uniformed servants carrying kettles of steaming water up the stairs to pour water for his sister’s bath in Parkhurst. As a boy, he had come to dread the sight of that line—it meant that soon he would be called to stop his play and come for his bath, as well. His older sister had always gone first, and for that he had always been grateful.
Josiah picked up a scrap of meat from the plate in front of him and looked at it dubiously before eating it. He thought of eggs served on his mother’s favorite china. Then he thought of burned bacon and lukewarm mush in a smoky, dark room. His own smoky, dark room.
He stood, and suddenly felt it was time to be moving—now, this instant. Since he had already ordered the stable boy to have his horse ready and his belongings tied in place, he had no more to do than pay his debts to Goodwin and make his farewell.
“Thank you for waiting, Mr. Throckmorton. It is, indeed, fortunate you did so—I’ve missed this page entirely. You initial here.” Goodwin pointed to a place near the top of the page and handed him a nib and pot of ink. “Then sign at the bottom, if you please. If you don’t mind my asking, wherever did you come up with the name ‘Cheesewringer?’”
Josiah squinted in thought for a moment. “I suppose it was the first thing that came to mind when you asked for a second name for the Carter relative. I don’t really see why you needed a second name.”
“It adds to the verisimilitude of the story,” Goodwin answered. “Not that Mr. Carter seemed to need any. He accepted his good fortune without question and wasted little time putting his new credit to good use. You saw him leave with two servants that very afternoon, did you not?”
“Yes.” Josiah felt a little warmed just thinking of Carter jubilantly saying his goodbyes to all the company at Goodwin’s, pretending to be sorry to leave the festivities in full swing. He had been anxious to share the good news with his family. By now, they must all know, of course. Caroline would be a lady of leisure once more and would not be serving drinks to guests the next time he visited.
Would he visit again? Why not? He was a neighbor. And though now encumbered in debt, he remained a gentleman. Perhaps he could court one of Carter’s other daughters. Surely, they did not all have a penchant for dressing as boys and running off to sea.
That last night in Charles Town, he had asked her to call him Edward. He had beautiful dark eyes. Caroline remembered that much but could not picture what those eyes actually looked like. She thought they had seemed deep, mesmerizing and absolutely unforgettable. However, she could no longer see them in her mind’s eye.
“Mama! She’s doing it again!”
Caroline rolled over on her stomach and covered her ears to drown out Johanna’s voice, piercing even through the closed door.
“Edwina’s reading Esquemeling’s Bucaniers, and you said specifically we were not to read that pirate book any longer.”
Caroline could not hear any of the replies, but one side of the conversation was more than enough to convince her she would find no more peace in her room that afternoon.
“Where are you going?” Johanna bounded up to her as soon as she opened her door.
“Out of doors.” Caroline tried to squeeze past her to get to the stairs.
“May I come?” her sister pleaded with her best smile.
“No.” Caroline paused for a moment. “Yes. You must come. I insist.”
The smile immediately faded. “Oh, good. I’ll have to get my cloak first.”
“Very well. Please hurry.” Caroline tapped her foot as she glanced down the stairs.
“Oh, it may take me a while.” Johanna clutched her hands in her skirt and twisted them into the fabric. “I think I need to mend a hole in it first.”
“You can wear it with a hole.”
“Oh, no, it’s ever so big a hole, it’s hugeormous. I could not be seen with such a hole in my cloak.”
“Why don’t you wear Georgiana’s, then?” Caroline almost had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.
“Oh, well, it has a hole in it, too, I’m sure. She was just telling me. And so, if you cannot wait, well then…” Johanna kept her gaze on the floor.
“Fine. I will simply have to go by myself.” Caroline huffed down the stairs in feigned irritation, trying to keep her laughter in check until she was out and away from the house. It was getting far too easy to control her sister.
The cold made her shiver a bit, but the bright sun gave an illusion of warmth and lifted her spirits after so many days of chilly clouds and drizzle. With no particular errand, Caroline was free to spend the afternoon as she wished. She started to skip a little as she passed the neglected skeletons of plants in her knot garden. Next year, she could return the herb garden to its former ordered beauty. Perhaps she might add some of Leda’s peppers.
She was as free as a bird! The temptation to run down the slope from the garden to the woods was too great. She spread her arms and, enjoying the great length of their shadows in the afternoon sun, dashed down the hill in long strides, feeling as though she would become airborne with every next step.
“Ha-ha! Look at Miss!”
“You a bird, Miss?”
Caroline turned at the sound of the young voices and caught sight of the Johnson boys just as the world slipped out from under her and she found herself staring up at the sky. Her hands and backside were mired in a large streak of mud. For a moment, she felt too bewildered to sense anything else. Then the cold, oozy feeling of mud between her fingers made her cringe.
The boys laughed. “Miss is a mudhen!” one of them cried.
They came closer, dragging the carcass of a turkey between them. When they reached her, the younger one reached down to dip his end of the bird into the mud. “We ’ave a mud’en, too,” he called out joyously.
Caroline felt her laughter erupt like a fountain. A little mud never did anyone any harm, even if it had probably ruined what remained of her best petticoat. She had already ordered two new ones and a new bodice, and she could make do until they arrived.
“Tell me, young gentlemen,” she said as she moved over to the grass to wipe the mud from her hands. “Why do you bring this bird to me for a mudbath?”
“This is a gift from Father. He says you have no brothers to hunt fresh game for you.”
The giggles evaporated from Caroline’s throat, and she had to swallow several times before she could answer. “Thank you, James. And, please, thank your father and mother. We are most grateful for your generous gift.”
“But why can your father not hunt for you as ours does?”
“Oh,” Caroline began, swallowing the lump in her throat again, “my father is aged, and his eyesight is not well enough to enable him to shoot. And I did have a brother who used to hunt game for us, but he died.” She hurried on quickly. “So, I will wait till one day I have boys of my own to hunt game for my table. Or perhaps you will hunt game for me when you are grown.”
“Oh,
yes! And Father says I am almost grown. So, I can hunt for you very soon, likely in a fortnight,” James assured her proudly.
“I gwown, too. I hunt, too,” William insisted.
Caroline smiled, despite her guilt and sadness. “You will both be my hunters, and quite soon, I am sure.” She kissed them each on the top of the head. “Now you had better return to help your mother and father. I am sure they cannot be without you for too long.”
“Oh, no. They cannot.” James’s eyes widened at the realization. “Come on, Will. Goodbye, Miss!”
“Bye, Miss!” the younger boy echoed as he waved a dimpled hand in farewell and trudged off behind his brother.
Caroline watched them until they disappeared into the trees. Then, a gust of wind reminded her that her clothes were wet through in places. Dirt had seeped under her fingernails and into the lines in her hands. She hoisted the turkey carcass into her arms and started back on the long, uphill walk to the house.
The sound of voices and horses hooves thudding on the fallen leaves made her look back cautiously to where the path joined the road at the bottom of the hill. She wanted to see which of her neighbors were out and whether they headed to or from the landing, but she had to take care to be far enough away to keep them from observing her disgraceful appearance.
To her horror, the horses turned from the road onto the path, and a rider hailed her before she could slip into the trees. Another headed right up to where Caroline was pressed against a tree, fervently wishing she could hide behind it.
“We seek the home of Josiah Throckmorton. I believe it is Hanset Plantation. Is this the right…” The man looked around with disdain. “…road?”
Before she could reply, Caroline noticed the other riders had followed the first up the path to where she stood. Two ladies and two gentlemen made up the party, all rather splendidly dressed. One of the ladies had covered her face with a traveling mask. Caroline wished for a sudden storm to obscure their vision and wash away her mud. Or perhaps, if she stepped aside, the force of her mortification might be enough to send the tree crashing down in their midst.