by Kate Dolan
But, of course, nothing happened, and all four of the imposing riders looked to her impatiently for an answer.
“N–no. This is the road to Hill Crest.” Caroline took a deep breath. “If you go back to the rolling road…” She released her grip on the turkey with one hand so she could point toward the bottom of the hill, “…and continue away from the landing, you will come to a road that leads to Hanset.”
The masked lady let out an exasperated groan and lifted her mask slightly so she could speak. “And just how are we supposed to find this road? Have you no markers in this colony?”
“Is there perhaps a landmark for this road?” asked the better-dressed of the gentlemen.
“Yes, er…” Desperate to make her escape, Caroline could think of no landmark she could readily describe to visitors. “There is a large tree at the base of the road,” she began lamely, inching backward as she spoke. “The branches grow lower on the trunk than on most other trees. And there are not so many roads between Hill Crest and Hanset. You will find it. Please excuse me.”
Dropping the turkey, she turned and bolted up the hill as fast as she could, ignoring the derisive laughter that followed her. Only when the sound of horses' hooves had long since faded did she dare look back.
Chapter Thirty-Five
"Eleanor! Why, what a pleasant surprise! And Sir James. I never dreamed you’d have arrived in Maryland before my return from the assizes.”
And for that Josiah felt fortunate, because it would have been a most unsettling nightmare if he had. He looked around the main room of his house in disbelief. Every inch of horizontal space, save the floor, had been covered with a cloth of some sort, as though his sister and her husband could not deign to sit on the bare wooden benches or look at an uncovered tabletop. Two leather chairs in the corner had been covered with fur-lined cloaks. He could not tell what other articles they had used to transform the space nor had he time to guess.
“We wanted to surprise you, dear brother,” Eleanor said as she came close for a perfunctory embrace. “Though I daresay we were very nearly foiled in our efforts. I did not think we should ever find your plantation. Have you no roads in this colony?”
“None that you would recognize as such.” Josiah smiled and bowed to his brother-in-law. “I hope the difficulties of your journey have not been overmuch, James?”
“Indeed, it has been a most trying excursion thus far.” James Davenport looked around the room gravely. “And it shows no sign of growing more comfortable.”
“Where is that girl?” Eleanor said to no one in particular. “Nearly a quarter of an hour has passed since I sent her back to the kitchen. It is not as though she could have gotten lost.”
“I am sorry to hear it.” Josiah continued looking at his brother-in-law. “But hopefully, you will not have to endure the rigors of travel through the colony for much longer?” He tried to keep his voice from sounding too eager.
“Josiah, your kitchen is that building out there in the yard, is it not?” His sister waved regally toward the door. “So, she had not far to go. Such an inconvenience.”
“Perhaps you could send your maid to fetch her.”
“Kate? Dear me, no. She has far too much work with my clothing upstairs. I could not possibly spare her. Besides, it is the duty of your servants to visit the kitchen.” Eleanor arched an eyebrow, clearly indicating her opinion of Josiah’s servants. “And we’ve not had a hot dish or drink since we arrived.”
Josiah winced slightly. How long had they been there?
“Not that it would be of much importance,” Eleanor continued airily. “The inferior food and drink here is perhaps best swallowed cold so as to dull the senses. Oh, you poor boy. Had we only known what you were suffering…” She patted his hand. “I’m sure you haven’t any tea, for I know it is not popular here with these colonials, but surely you must have some chocolate and coffee. But when I asked for a warm drink this morning, your girl brought me cider. Imagine, serving cider to Sir James and myself.”
“I hope you did not take offense, Eleanor?”
“How could I not? Cider! As if she were giving refreshment to a stray beggar!”
“Cider is a most common drink here. People of all stations drink it without shame. It is rather good, actually.”
“Hmmph.”
“And, as you mentioned, not much else is—of domestic drink, anyway.”
Eleanor looked at him then pointedly turned away and stared at the door, as if she would bore a hole through it with her eyes.
“What has happened to your house, Josiah?” his brother-in-law asked with concern. “Was it a fire? Or I have heard the storms may do fearsome damage.”
“My house?”
“Yes, it must be dreadful to have to live in servant’s quarters like this. When did it happen?” Davenport looked at the disguised bench behind him as if he were almost willing to sit down on it.
“Well,” Josiah began, taking a seat on the covered bench opposite, “I must confess that this is, indeed, my own house.”
“What?”
“Surely not, Josiah. This…this…” His sister appeared for once to be at a loss for words. “This cabin? You have lived in this building for an entire year?”
Josiah smiled, finding he rather enjoyed her discomfiture. “Has it been so long? I do believe it has. The whole experience has been rather refreshing, I find. We are so often out-of-doors here.”
“I see.” Davenport appeared to weigh this bit of information, but his wife was not impressed.
“Well, of course, you are out-of-doors,” she snapped. “Even when you are inside you may count yourself as taking the air, so much of it blows through your walls, particularly upstairs.”
Upstairs? Of course. If they had been here for some time, they would have seen the upstairs rooms with their unplastered walls and sparse furnishings. They would have even had to sleep in those rooms.
“But, Josiah, you are no outdoorsman,” his sister continued pointedly. “You care nothing for the pursuits of hunting and fishing. How can you live as a rustic?”
He stifled a sudden urge to pack his sister into a trunk and shut the lid. “Perhaps I did not care for such pursuits in England, dear sister, but here, on the frontier, life is different. There is bigger game, more sport to be had.” He stretched luxuriously before the fire. “I find this life rather suits me.”
It was true the animals seemed bigger than in England, and there were certainly more of them, but he had hitherto taken no more interest in hunting them here than he had at home. Still, he might, someday.
“Hmm. Josiah, I might enjoy a bit of sport. Perhaps we might get in a day of shooting while I am here.” Davenport rubbed his hands together. “On a day when it is not so blustery.”
“Certainly.” How on earth was he going to be able to assemble a hunting party sufficient to impress his brother-in-law? “When we are able to make the time for it, of course. There will be certain invitations we must not ignore, and then, I imagine your duties will take you to other places.”
Davenport refused to pick up the hint.
“I say, what game do you find most attractive at this time of year, Josiah?”
“What? Oh, I don’t know. Deer, bear, uh, large birds…What places will you be inspecting on your trip?”
“Bear! That should be quite a challenge. Have you shot many?”
“Oh, no more than the usual. You will need to travel to Annapolis at some point, I assume?”
“Annapolis? Yes, of course, I shall have business in the capital. We had planned for Eleanor to stay with you. Assuming that is convenient.”
“I should welcome the chance to visit so intimately with my sister. But, as you have observed, I cannot offer her the comforts to which she is accustomed, so perhaps she might prefer to continue with you.”
Eleanor chose that moment to sigh and flutter dramatically into a fur-draped chair. “This adventure has been most trying on my strength. I fear it will take me y
ears to recover.”
“Indeed, I fear for your health myself. I must ask you, Eleanor, whatever induced you to make such a journey in the first place?”
“It is my duty, sir, to accompany my husband, to lighten his burden.”
Josiah looked around at the trunks and other luggage his guests had stuffed into the two downstairs rooms and could only guess at how much more lay upstairs. “I can see you lighten his burden considerably, dear sister. But the risks of travel, the discomforts—surely, you are not expected to endure this for the sake of your husband’s business?”
“Travel is becoming quite the fashion, Josiah, now with the war over. I daresay Eleanor will be the envy of her circle when she returns with souvenirs of her visit to Maryland.”
Josiah clenched his lips together to keep from smiling. His sister had embarked on a journey to cater to whims of fashion and had obviously gotten quite more than she’d bargained for. However, his brother-in-law would not have undertaken the expenses of such a trip without good cause.
“What business brings you to Maryland, James?”
“A general reporting of the health of the colony and the tobacco exports. Lord Baltimore urges daily that the colony be returned to proprietary rule, and I daresay the crown will give in, eventually. But I, and others with ties here, have been, shall we say, encouraged to visit and report on the true state of affairs before the parties can agree to terms.”
Josiah nodded. That made some sense. But—he suddenly realized it was growing dark outside. His sister still impatiently awaited her warm drink, and he should offer his guests some late dinner, or supper. He only hoped Betty and Priscilla could still cooperate enough to put together a decent meal.
“Oh, thank heavens.” Eleanor smiled as the door opened and Priscilla and Betty paraded in, heavily laden with bowls, tankards and platters. “I am so very grateful to you for your kind attentions.” She stood and reached out for the tankard Pricilla held toward her. “Warm cider. How very thoughtful of you.”
“Have we no chocolate or coffee to offer our guests?” Josiah put in quickly.
“Welcome home, sir.” Betty bowed her head and lowered her substantial frame in a quick movement that could perhaps have been taken for a curtsy. “Yes, we’ve both coffee and chocolate, same as when you left. I had no idea they were wanted.”
Josiah looked at his sister, to all appearances the picture of serene contentment as she sipped her cider. “I would like a mug of coffee, if you please, Betty. And you, Sir James?”
“The same, Mr. Throckmorton.”
“Shall I set out the dinner first, sir?”
“Yes, please do, while it is still hot.” He noted with satisfaction that Priscilla had already distributed his best plates and napkins around the table. Now, she placed a fork carefully at each place, stealing glances at Eleanor all the while. She looked from his elegantly dressed sister to him with some puzzlement, which changed to embarrassment when she realized he was watching her.
“Welcome home, sir. I’ll fetch a plate for you and a tray for the servants upstairs,” she muttered quickly before she turned and dashed out the door.
With evident resignation, Sir James and Lady Davenport sat down to their dinner.
“Did you say there would be invitations soon, Mr. Throckmorton?” Davenport asked as he watched Betty deposit a charred roast on the table.
Betty looked hesitantly at Josiah. “Will you carve, sir?”
“I would ask my guest to do the honor. Would you be so kind, Sir James?”
“Of course.”
He nodded to Betty, and to his great relief, she appeared to understand she was to move the roast in front of the guest. Unfortunately, she did so by merely shoving the platter across the table, leaving a greasy stain on the tablecover in its wake.
“Thank you, sir.” Josiah hoped someone had sharpened his carving knife recently, but from the difficulty his brother-in-law was experiencing, he realized his hope was in vain. He motioned for Betty to come closer.
“Please have all the knives sharpened. Tomorrow,” he said quietly.
“Yes, sir.” Betty dished cooked squash and potatoes onto the plates then passed around a basket of only slightly burned corn muffins.
“Thank you, Betty. That will be all for the moment. I’ll ring when next we need you.”
“Ring, sir?”
“The bell, Betty.” Josiah pointed to a long-neglected bell on a shelf near the door. None of his servants had ever responded well to its summons, and he hadn’t attempted to use it in nearly a year. But with his sister in the house, he felt his usual custom of yelling out the window would hardly be appropriate.
As soon as Betty had closed the door behind her, Eleanor put down her fork. “Josiah, whatever has happened to your hair? Where is your wig?”
“It has been given a decent burial, I assure you.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“It became ragged rather quickly, I’m afraid. And there is no one in the vicinity able to dress them. And I had forgotten to bring any powder.” He smiled. “You would have been scandalized at the sight of my wig, Eleanor.”
“Even so, could you not order a new one? Must you wear your own hair like a common laborer?”
“Let me see. You’ve already said that I live like a rustic so I suppose it makes sense I appear like one as well. Are you going to start in on my clothing, or will you wait for dessert for that?”
“Your traveling clothes are adequate, I suppose.” She prodded a bit of squash with the flat of her knife and looked at it dubiously.
“Eleanor, in this climate there is a deal of heat and moisture and even more of insects. My wig was new when I arrived yet was soon ratty and filled with bugs. A replacement would be in the same condition all too soon, without a wigmaker near at hand to keep it in repair. Someday, Elkridge Landing will attract such a tradesman, and then I will be first in line to be fitted for a new wig, I promise you. But in the meantime, I have grown rather accustomed to my own hair.”
“Then I suppose all the gentlemen in Maryland wear their own hair?”
“I cannot speak for all of them, of course. But enough of them do. I will not embarrass you, dear sister. At least, not on account of my hair.”
Eleanor started to roll her eyes then stopped with a sigh.
“Ahem.” Davenport put a napkin to his mouth. “Did you say something about invitations to dine?”
“Of course. Once word of your arrival has spread, all of our neighbors will want to make your acquaintance.” Josiah looked over toward his writing desk. It was time to spread the word.
Chapter Thirty-Six
"May I read it, Father? Who is it from?”
“It’s from Aunt Bennett.”
“No, it’s from Father’s lawyer. We must have another relative giving us money!”
“I believe,” Caroline said quietly from the edge of the throng surrounding her father’s chair, “you’ll find that letter is from Mr. Throckmorton.”
“Do you know his writing so well?”
“He sent her love letters all the time. She could recognize his writing at fifty paces.”
“The messenger,” Caroline said, raising her voice to be heard above the giggles, “rode in on Disciple, the horse we sold to Mr. Throckmorton.”
Despite her attempt to appear as the wise, disinterested older sister, she felt warmth rise in her cheeks. Mr. Throckmorton had not sent her love notes of any kind, but he had written her short notes on occasion; and she did recognize his writing. Why did he write now?
“Very well.” John Carter cleared his throat and looked around at his daughters with a mock sternness he could not maintain. “Since you will give me no peace, I shall read it once to you all aloud and then have done with it. One time only, mind you.” He ruffled the paper dramatically. “‘My Dear Sir, I am pleased to inform you that I have the honor of hosting my brother-in-law and sister, Sir James and Lady Davenport, on the occasion of their visit from Englan
d. Having heard much of your family, they are anxious to make your acquaintance. We will be at home to callers the afternoon of Wednesday and Thursday, if this should be a convenient time. Very truly yours, your most humble and obedient servant, Josiah Throckmorton.’”
“My gown cannot possibly be ready by then.” Mrs. Carter looked up from her stitching with alarm. “Might we wait until next week?”
“I do not think that would be appropriate, Mrs. Carter. Surely the gown you wear now will be sufficient? It is only Mr. Throckmorton.”
“But Lady Davenport and Sir James! I cannot appear before them in this.”
Her husband looked at her and said nothing.
“The seamstress at Longacre is reworking two of my gowns at this very moment. One might perhaps be ready by Friday.” She looked hopefully at her husband.
“Might we come with you, Father?” Johanna asked.
“Yes, I’ve nearly finished with the lace on my gown,” Georgiana added.
“This is so much nonsense.” Carter slapped the letter against his hand like a judge pronouncing sentence. “I shall go alone to wait on Mr. Throckmorton’s guests. Then I will issue an invitation for them to dine here the next week, and you may all sew your fingers to the bone in the interim.”
“Yes, an excellent idea! Ouch, there, I have gone and pricked my finger. Would one of you girls be so kind as to finish this edge for me?”
Mrs. Carter stood and held up the piece of trim she had been working on for the better part of a week. Caroline and Edwina looked at each other as if in mutual agreement, and continued patching their stockings. Georgiana reluctantly took the finery from her mother’s hands and set down her own work.
“Thank you, Georgiana, my helpful girl. I must go upstairs and inspect my stockings. Can anything be done with my shoes, I wonder? We will probably all need new stockings and where will we find them on such short notice? I wonder, indeed.”
Her mother had just started up the stairs in her fit of nervous musing when Caroline decided to be a little bit wicked. “Don’t forget the menu, Mother,” she called out.