Windsong

by Valerie Sherwood

  And men who live by the sword die by the sword - and go back to no one . . . The inference was clear.

  ‘Rye will be back in time for the wedding,’ she mumbled.

  ‘And when will that be? As I understand it, Letty won’t allow a date to be set yet.’

  ‘She’s waiting to hear from Aunt Pet,’ sighed Carolina. ‘And for the governor to return,’ she added resignedly.

  Sandy laughed, his morose mood mercurially changed. He knew as well as Carolina did how Letty loved spectacles - great dramatic events, carefully staged. As she was planning to stage this one.

  ‘One other thing,’ he cautioned as they reached the front door. ‘I wouldn’t say anything about his leaving just yet. Why not wait till morning? Make excuses for him, say he’s talking to someone, he spilled Madeira on his cuffs and has gone to change his shirt - anything you can think of. Don’t let anyone know he’s gone until morning. Then you can say at breakfast that he woke you up at dawn and told you he’d been called away.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked steadily.

  He hesitated. ‘Just in case . . .’ He let the words drift off.

  Again that hint of something terribly wrong . . .

  in case of pursuit?’ she demanded, as they reached the door.

  ‘Possibly . . He frowned. ‘And don't stand in the door talking. We could be overheard.’

  He threw open the heavy front door and Carolina went in, chilled not so much by the river damp as by Sandy’s words. He drifted away from her towards the ballroom and she wanted to run after him, crying, ‘Tell me what you know!’ But she knew it would do no good. When Sandy was ready to tell her, he’d tell her. And not before.

  Rye had promised to take her to the Fairfield ball. He had kept that promise.

  He just hadn’t told her that he would leave before it was over!

  LEVEL GREEN

  THE YORK RIVER, VIRGINIA

  Spring 1689

  9

  Now that Rye had sailed for Bermuda and they were all back at Level Green, Carolina had plenty of time to think. To think about what it would be like to lose a husband - as Virginia had. Or to be abandoned by the only man you ever loved - as Sally Montrose had. Or to go running back to the man you loved so desperately, only to have to leave him again because you were both married to other people - as her mother had.

  What would be would be, she had told herself fatalistically when their barge took them back from Fairfield to Level Green. She had fended off Sally’s curious questions and Virginia’s anxious ones, but she had been uneasily conscious of her mother’s thoughtful gaze upon her on that return trip and guessed that her mother was puzzled by it all. But she had tried to look calm as she stared out over the wide expanse of the York, shining silver beneath a grey winter sky - as silver as her eyes. Or Sandy Randolph’s.

  True to his word. Sandy had backed up her story. He had told everybody he had been up early and run across Rye leaving. Told everybody so smoothly that he had been believed. Or at least not challanged.

  So life had slipped back into its usual pattern at Level Green - save that the wedding plans had gathered momentum as winter in the Tidewater slipped into spring.

  Now the weeks had sped by and Carolina was standing on the damp spongy earth, with early spring bulbs just peeking out of the ground, and watching - as she so often did - for any sign of a sail.

  But there was no sail.

  Carolina sighed and her thoughts drifted to Virginia.

  For Virginia the ball at Fairfields had been a disaster. She had gained five pounds since Carolina’s return, but after the ball she had become listless and had begun to lose weight again.

  She’s lost hope, Carolina realized. Virgie looked better at the Fairfield ball than she’d ever looked in her life - and it still didn’t help. And that was because people decided early on what they thought about you and it took something really major to change their opinion, thought Carolina. But watching Virginia turn away from food all that first week after the ball had made Carolina desperate. Obviously her mother, wrapped up in plans for a wedding that might never come off, wasn’t going to do anything about Virginia. It was up to her.

  The night Virginia hardly touched her supper and then retired to bed, saying she felt ‘a little lightheaded’, brought things to a head. Carolina had watched Virginia’s wavering, almost weightless progress up the stairs with real alarm and had come to an abrupt conclusion. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she snatched up some hot chocolate in one of the new fashionable ‘chocolate cups’ and followed her up. What she was planning might not be the right thing to do, but she felt she had to take the chance - it could mean saving Virginia’s life.

  She walked briskly down the hall, took a deep breath, and flung open the door to Virginia’s pleasant green and white bedchamber. Virginia had not lit a candle and the bed with its green and white petticoat valance was only a large square shape in the dimness. It was a misty night and only the palest of early moonlight filtered into the room, but that was enough to reveal that Virginia had thrown herself across the bed in exhaustion.

  Carolina latched the door and advanced upon the bed. She did not need candlelight for what she was going to say.

  ‘Virgie.’ Carolina sat down upon the bed.

  Virginia stirred. ‘Oh, is that you, Carolina?’ she murmured without opening her eyes.

  ‘Yes. I have something important to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh?’ Virginia sounded far away; she still did not open her eyes. Carolina felt that Virginia was drifting away from her - perhaps into an unconscious state in which she’d be unable to eat.

  ‘Oh, Virgie!’ She was almost in a panic. ‘Please buck up! Open your eyes and look at me. Can’t you see I need you?’

  Virginia opened her dark blue eyes and stared upward. There was Carolina’s anxious face, swimming before her in the wavery light. ‘What - what did you say, Carolina?’ she demanded weakly.

  ‘I said I need you. Oh, Virgie, I’ve got to tell someone. Rye is playing a dangerous game - he could die of it! And if he dies, I think I’d die too. I need you, Virgie, to help me through it.’

  Something lost and forgotten in Virginia stirred. She had been absorbed in her own personal failures and tragedies for so long. And around her all her life there had been nothing but blazing success - or so it seemed to her: proud passionate Penny, going her own way; beautiful sought-after Carolina; indomitable Letitia - all three of them sweeping all before them. And in the background there was Fielding, absorbed in his fantastic new house, and forgetful of his less attractive daughter and her lighthearted self-sufficient younger sisters. And now, out of the darkness had come this strange new thought - voiced by, of all people, the great beauty of the family - Carolina. She was needed. Something she had never been before. Needed. The film seemed to leave her eyes and she saw Carolina’s beautiful pleading face clearly at last.

  ‘Oh, Virgie,’ sighed Carolina. ‘You’re too weak to take it all in. Sit up and drink this chocolate and I’ll tell you about it.’

  Obediently Virginia sat up and sipped the chocolate as Carolina told her. About Rye. About Tortuga. About her brief violent life there as the Silver Wench.

  When Carolina had finished, the chocolate was too and the story had left Virginia gasping. ‘I only thought Rye was mixed up with the buccaneers in some sort of clandestine trading,’ she cried. ‘I never dreamed he was their leader!' She grew even more distraught. ‘But suppose for some reason Rye can’t get his pardon? Suppose there’s some hitch?’

  ‘Exactly what I’ve been thinking,’ said Carolina in a worried voice. ‘Because he’s been gone so long, and there’s been no word. Maybe the governor wasn’t there, maybe - oh, so many things could have gone wrong!’

  ‘And you never told me!’ cried Virginia accusingly. ‘You bore all this by yourself?’

  ‘Virgie, you were so weak and fragile, I was afraid it would be too much for you to know. But now - oh, suppose Rye comes back and n
eeds help, Virgie? I can’t ask Mother or Fielding - Fielding would promptly turn him over to the law and say “Good riddance!” And I don’t know what Mother would do! And Sandy might not be readily available, he’s always going away somewhere. Oh, Virgie, I need someone to - to back me up in case there’s trouble. Someone I don’t have to explain to, someone who already knows all about everything and who’ll keep my secret for me.’

  ‘I'll keep your secret and I’ll back you up!’ cried Virginia, filled with hot chocolate and excitement.

  ‘Oh, you say that now, Virgie, but when the time comes you’ll be so weak you won’t be able to,’ sighed Carolina. ‘You’ll have starved yourself so you’ll simply faint and be no help at all. If only you had some strength!’

  ‘I won’t faint,’ insisted Virginia, her voice infused with newfound energy. ‘And I will help - I’ll find the strength!’

  ‘Then begin by coming back downstairs and eating at least a few bites of dinner - we can find something in one of the pantries. Everything won’t have been cleared away yet.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Virginia hesitated. She did not really want dinner, but Carolina was already urging her to her feet.

  ‘Suppose Rye’s ship ran into trouble? Suppose he’s shipwrecked somewhere? It could take him a long time to get back to me - and you know Mother; she’s hot to have a big wedding this spring, and a big wedding she will have - even if she has to substitute a new bridegroom!’

  That last goaded Virginia into action. She padded across the floor and accompanied Carolina back downstairs to whisper and scheme.

  And as she nibbled the assortment of cold meat and Sally Lunn and corn fritters that Carolina was able to find, Virginia became so interested in Carolina’s problems that when Carolina sighed, ‘So you can see, Virgie, if you waste away and die on me - ’ she almost laughed. For of a sudden she had no intention of dying, or of wasting away either. She intended to eat. All her abused stomach could tolerate. For she had a purpose in living now - she was needed! It had just come to her, what her mission in life was to be. She might not be able to find happiness for herself, but she could help someone she loved find happiness. She made up her mind right then: She was going to Get Carolina Through It!

  Since then Virginia had gained ten pounds. It wasn’t enough - she was still thin as a rail - but it was enough to please their mother, who had smiled at Virginia only last week and had told her graciously that she was ‘looking much better’ and it was ‘certainly high time she forgot that miserable fellow!’ This reminder of the reason for Virginia’s decline had frightened Carolina - she had given Virginia a pleading look. But Virginia had smiled bravely back, even if her smile was a little crooked. It was hard to be reminded, but in spite of that she had managed to eat most of her dessert.

  Carolina had been proud of her.

  And all this time there had been no word from Rye.

  ‘I cannot understand it,’ Letitia had said irritably at supper last night. ‘Plans for the wedding are nearly complete. And Rye Evistock seemed so - responsible. Why does he not at least write?’

  Virginia, who was at that moment spooning up pumpkin soup with some determination, looked up. ‘Maybe he can’t,’ she volunteered. ‘Maybe he - ’

  Carolina gave Virginia’s ankle a light nudge under the table. Looking down at her plate she found her food suddenly tasteless, ‘I am sure Rye must be terribly busy,’ she muttered, ‘settling his friend’s estate.’

  Her mother had only sniffed.

  ‘Maybe his ship ran into pirates!’ cried Della, who had a flair for the dramatic, and little Flo said, ‘Oh-h-h-h!’ and her eyes shone.

  Carolina had given them both an unhappy look. Had he run into trouble getting his pardon in Bermuda, she wondered, as he had here in Virginia? Or had something happened to him?

  Speculation on that had kept her awake far into the night . . .

  Now on the tender springtime grass, she stood by the riverside, as she so often had of late, longing for Rye to come back. Overhead a flight of geese winged noisily by, on their way north. A single bald eagle soared gracefully above, seeming almost stationary, a lonely sentinel in an empty blue sky. Robins were pecking for earthworms among the new grass blades and bluebirds scolded from the branches of the flowering redbud and the creamy white dogwood nestled among the giant oaks.

  Before her the river was a shining expanse of blue, reflecting the azure sky, sharing no secrets, telling her nothing . . .

  After a while she gave up watching the empty river and went back inside the massive brick house that Fielding Lightfoot might never be able to pay for, but that suited him and his Letty so superbly well. She found Virginia settled into a big chair by a window in the panelled library. As usual Virginia had her head in a leather-bound volume - probably Latin, thought Carolina - which she closed as Carolina entered.

  ‘You were watching for Rye, weren’t you?’ Virginia said in a commiserating voice. ‘I saw you standing out there by the river.’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Carolina with a sigh. ‘I was.’

  ‘Like Iseult the Fair,’ Virginia declared mournfully - for she had just been reading the medieval legend of Tristan and Iseult and was steeped in tragedy. ‘Falling in love at the wrong time and the wrong place - ’

  Carolina interrupted her before she could add ‘and with the wrong man - like me.’ She was familiar with the legend and she didn’t like the inference that Rye was not coming back, that perhaps he had found - as Tristan of the legend had - another woman. ‘I’m not as well read as you are, Virgie,’ she interrupted crisply. ‘But I am very certain that I am not like Iseult.’

  ‘Your wedding dress is all done,’ mourned Virginia. ‘And where is the bridegroom?’

  ‘Safe and well, I hope!’ Vexed, Carolina looked past Virginia, down the broad lawns towards the river.

  ‘It may be I’ve brought you bad luck!’ Virginia hugged the leather volume to her flat chest. ‘I’ve managed to ruin my own life and now maybe my bad luck is spreading to you as well! Maybe Rye will never come back and you’ll fall into disuse like me!’

  ‘Stop that!’ said Carolina sharply. ‘You’re working yourself up for nothing, Virgie. And - ’ As she spoke she was looking out of the window at something outside, and her voice changed, grew excited. ‘There’s a longboat coming up the river - oh, Virgie, it’s Rye, I know it is! He’s come back!’

  BOOK 2

  The Lightfoot Lass

  Of all the lads on bended knee

  Who ever sought to wed you,

  Ask yourself, do you think that he

  Will wed you now he’s bed you?

  PART ONE

  The Wedding Nobody Ever Forgot!

  The wit and wisdom of the world

  Have changed her not a whit.

  She flies at fate, all flags unfurled,

  With eyes like beacons lit!

  LEVEL GREEN

  THE YORK RIVER, VIRGINIA

  Spring 1689

  10

  No expense had been spared to make this wedding of aristocratic Carolina Lightfoot to Rye Evistock, gentleman of Essex, the event of the season in the Tidewater. Certainly it was the most lavish wedding in human memory along the banks of the York. All morning barges and boats had been plying up and down the York and the James, bringing satin-clad ladies and gentlemen to alight at the river landing and make their way across the smooth oak-dotted lawns of Level Green where - in what was easily the largest house in all of Colonial Virginia - a great wedding was soon to take place.

  A whole smokehouse of rock-hard hams were even now being sliced thin as paper for the repast after the ceremony. Two dozen wild turkeys were being turned on spits set up outside. A whole army of servants, many of them newly hired and some of them borrowed from other plantations, were scurrying about the endless corridors with pressing irons and wine bottles and billowing dresses and pewter chamber pots.

  As with most great occasions, there had been a few hitches.

  The blu
e and white plates had arrived, smashed to smithereens by improper packing, and the extra cutlery Letitia had ordered had never been shipped at all. But neighbours and friends had rallied to their aid. Chargers and trenchers and cutlery - all cleaned with a mixture of ashes of wheat straw and whiting and burned alum rubbed vigorously with a woollen cloth - had been contributed by Ralph Wormeley of Rosegill and others, along with grooms and serving wenches to ‘help out’ in the expected crush. Great cheeses from Cheddar and Cheshire had been brought to Level Green fresh from English ships and a hunt was organized for wild turkeys, which were becoming scarce. Perspiring serving girls were even now pounding coffee ‘berries’ with a pestle. The servants whispered that they had never seen so much of that expensive drink - tea, poured from conical-topped pots, or chocolate which was to be served in special chocolate cups set, Spanish fashion, in silver frames. For themselves the servants preferred brandy or the new ‘geneva’ which was brandy mixed with juniper berry juice and would eventually come to be known as ‘gin’. There were dozens of greenish glass wine bottles with glass seals being brought up from the big cellars - and it was rumoured that Fielding Lightfoot had imported several large ‘pipes’ of wine which might well be consumed before the marriage festivities were over. An extravagant affair it would be for a man deep in debt - as most of the planters were - but then, had not the Lightfoots always lived beyond their income? And did not the vast bulk of Level Green itself cause tradesmen to murmur to each other that while payment was slow because tobacco prices were down, tobacco prices might soon be up? And then they would be glad they had not pressed Fielding Lightfoot too far and driven him to take his custom elsewhere!