by Joann Simon
Not that she'd neglected her appearance, but her position in the house had forced her to disguise her attributes, made her feel dowdy, especially in comparison to the elegance of the young mistress.
Sunday morning she washed and dried her long hair before the fire and brushed it until it gleamed, then fastened it in an arrangement of soft waves atop her head. She chose the green wool drees, by far the most attractive in her limited wardrobe. Its color brought out the green in her eyes—eyes that had so often lately been dulled by weariness and despair. For a moment, as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her skin glowing, the color warm and rosy on her cheekbones, she once again felt the strong, vital Jessica that she'd been in the twentieth century.
The entire household set off on foot shortly after noon— the Beards in one party; Cook, Rachel, Jeb, Jessica and Kit in the other. Jeb looked stiff and formal in what he referred to as his Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes, but he seemed proud of his appearance, such a gentleman that he took Molly's plump arm for the brief stroll. Molly was clearly delighted by his gesture, her rosy cheeks growing rosier, a shy smile on her lips making her seem almost girlish again.
At the sight of the two of them, Jessica smiled. How nice that these two good people, both alone in the world, should find pleasure in each other's company. Rachel seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, but then she rarely encouraged conversation. None of Jessica's overtures of friendship had succeeded in breaking through the girl's icy distrust, and Jessica had finally given up trying. It seemed that the women of the house were equally divided around her
—Amelia Beard and Molly Fletcher were warm and supportive; Elizabeth and Rachel seemed eager to do everything in their power to make life a misery for her.
The meeting hall was crowded as they stepped through the door, its utilitarian interior warmed by a fire and the crush of bodies, taking the chill out of the early spring air. Rachel immediately moved off toward a group of young women. But like a mothering hen, Molly kept Jessica under her wing as they moved further into the room, exchanging greetings, Molly introducing her to those Jessica hadn't already met. Jeb had found his own cronies and was soon lifting a punch glass to his lips. The Beards, the La-thropes, and a few other neighbors of their social stature were congregated near the fireplace, where chairs had been set out for the ladies. Jessica had never met the Lathropes, although she'd heard Elizabeth talk of them often, and of their son, George, a dark-haired young man who was courting Willa Lockwood, a wealthy girl from Eastport.
Along one wall a table groaned under its burden of home-cooked delectables—every household had contributed something—and already some of the children were helping themselves, particularly from the dessert end of the table, slyly looking about for their mothers, and when sure no one who cared was watching, popping sweets into their mouths.
Jessica spotted Lucas St. John almost at the start. He seemed to stand out from the other men, and it was obvious many of the laborers looked up to him as a leader. Lucas smiled and lifted his hand in greeting to Molly and Jessica, but it was toward Elizabeth, prettily chatting with George Lathrope by the fire and making the most of her charms, that Lucas was constantly gazing. If Elizabeth was aware of his stare, she certainly gave no indication of it as she tilted her head to hear something George Lathrope was saying. The young Lathrope was obviously flattered by her attention.
Jessica was aware that she, too, was eliciting some interested glances from the men. Still, Miss Elizabeth was daughter to one of the wealthiest and most respected men in Silvercreek; Jessica Dunlap was a mere servant.
The excitement and strange faces didn't seem to bother Kit. He was an angel; alert, fascinated by the hubbub. At five months he was strong for his age, very aware of what was going on around him, more precocious, others had told Jessica, than any babe they'd seen in a long time. Jeb was already building him a small playpen to be set up in the kitchen when he grew too rambunctious for his cradle. But after all, Jessica often thought, given the child's background, was it surprising he was out of the ordinary? He was the issue of two people born over a century and a half apart, his father of noble lineage; and Kit himself had made a journey through time at the tender age of one month.
Molly took Kit as Jessica went to fill a plate at the table, then settle herself in a chair beside Molly to eat and to observe the crowd while Molly offered bits of gossip about
some of the neighbor folk. They were momentarily interrupted from their chat when Amelia Beard came over.
"Jessica," she asked with a warm smile, "I don't mean to disturb your meal, but would you mind terribly if I stole your son for a bit? I have told Beatrice Lathrope so much about the child, and I would like to show him to her."
"Of course, I wouldn't mind. As a matter of fact you make me very proud."
"As you have every right to be. Such a fine boy. And never to worry, I will take good care of him."
"That I don't doubt."
Jessica handed Kit up into Amelia's capable arms. The child, so familiar with Mrs. Beard from her visits to the kitchen, gave her a baby smile and was immediately tucked close to Amelia's motherly breast. "I will not keep him as long as I'd like," she said as she stepped back toward the fireplace with the five-month-old in her arms.
"Quite a sensation he has made," Cook commented after Amelia Beard left.
"Do you think so?"
"Aye, no question of it. But he's a lovely child, and the mistress needs somethin' to occupy her thoughts. Always loved children, she did, and with Miss Elizabeth nearly grown and leaving the nest shortly, no doubt, this child is a blessing to her, though Mary will be presenting them both with a grandchild the end of summer. Master Kit will no doubt have his nose put out of joint at that happy event. If I guess him, he'll be taking his first steps by then, so forward he is." As Amelia joined the group by the fire, one of the local fiddlers took out his instrument and moved to a corner of the room. He tuned the strings, and soon the lively notes of a country dance were ringing through the hall. The crowd separated to leave a space for dancing, and several of the younger couples, all of them servants and farmhands, stepped in to fill the gap and form a set. The dancing was lively, the dancers merry, as though to make up in one swift moment for the deprivations of the last year and a half. Very few of the revelers cared about the politics leading up to the war. Though angered by the British impressment of sailors and interference with U.S. shipping, they did not share the sentiments of the western and southern "War Hawks" in Congress who had urged President Madison into the war in the hopes of expanding United States territory into Canada, and as a means of combating the Indian attacks along western borders that these men felt were inspired by the British. All the coastal New England-ers knew was that the war had curtailed shipping along the east coast and, by cutting off their markets, spelled economic disaster for them all. Jessica watched them move through the steps of the unfamiliar dance. Christopher had shown her the elegance of a ballroom waltz, but there'd never been an occasion for him to teach her the other popular dances of his era. As she sat observing, Kit still with Mrs. Beard, she was approached by a likable young man of her own age, Elias Jones, who worked at Bertram Beard's mill. He asked her to join him in the next set. That Jessica was married was common knowledge, and Elias's invitation could not be accepted. She refused as politely as she could, telling him that she had decided not to dance that evening. He accepted her refusal graciously, smiled, and stepped away.
From where Jessica was seated, it was not difficult to notice the scene being played around Elizabeth. George Lathrope had finally moved away to sit beside his intended, Willa Lockwood, whose expression had become more and more irritated the longer he had remained talking to Elizabeth Beard. But Elizabeth was not left alone for long. Jessica had noticed Lucas gradually working his way through the crowd until he appeared at Elizabeth's elbow. Lucas may not have been garbed in finely tailored jacket and breeches, as George Lathrope was, but something about his carriage made an ins
tant impression.
Elizabeth's response to Lucas's greeting was not notably warm—that much was clear to Jessica even from across the crowded room. It was obvious Elizabeth considered Lucas far beneath her touch. She was not a girl to settle for a mill hand, foreman though he was, and she wasn't mature enough to see beneath to the man's potential. Still, aside from George, no other young men present came up to Elizabeth's standards, and a compliment from even a mill hand was better than no compliment at all. The two chatted for a few minutes, Elizabeth moving to end the conversation when Mrs. Lathrope, a stately looking matron, approached her. The girl didn't even attempt to introduce Lucas to the woman, only nodded her head and turned her back on him. Jessica saw the momentary flash of pain and humiliation on his face; then he set his shoulders and walked back to the men gathered around the punch bowl.
It was not long after that he strolled over to where Jessica was standing, Kit once again in her arms.
"I have not had a chance to say hello," he smiled, "or to tell you how lovely you look this afternoon."
"That's kind of you to say."
"I only speak the truth. I see the little fellow is doing well. How are you?"
"Well enough."
He studied her. "The way you say that makes me think you could be better."
"The work is very tiring at times," Jessica said evasively, even though she knew she needn't fear being honest with Lucas.
"And? You've not heard any word of your husband?"
Jessica shook her head.
"As I told you before, that is not a reason to think the worst."
"I know."
Seeing the distress on Jessica's face, Lucas changed the subject. "I will probably be seeing a good deal of everyone at the farm in the next few weeks. Bertram's planning an addition to the barn. I am cutting up the order now and will be making some of the deliveries myself."
" Jeb has mentioned that he needed more stabling for the milk cows. Are you busy at the mill?"
"The work is coming in here and there, but little building is going on. Everyone's afraid, waiting for the outcome of this war. If some of my men had not enlisted with the Connecticut militia a few months back, I would be laying them off.""The times are bad."
"Which only goes to show the Federalists were right in wanting to stay out, although there is a lot of Republican sentiment in this area."
Jessica had heard enough talk of local politics to know that although the state as a whole was Federalist, the Democratic-Republican Party, proponents of Jeffersonian dogma, had a strong foothold in Eastport and had been one of the few groups in the state to favor the war.
"And what are your leanings?" she asked Lucas.
"Federalist. I never had any great feeling for this conflict—certainly not enough to risk my neck. Of course, if it comes down to the line, I will enlist."
Jessica nodded, sympathizing with Lucas's opinion.
"I was just going to get myself a glass of punch," he commented. "Can I get one for you?"
"If it's no trouble."
"No trouble at all." As Lucas slipped off into the crowd, Jessica had an opportunity to glance around the room. She was pleased to see Molly and Jeb with a group of their contemporaries talking in a corner of the room. Mr. and Mrs.
Beard were enjoying a country dance together, its tempo more sedate than some of the earlier numbers. Elizabeth was also up dancing with a gentleman who, his age and bearing suggested, was one of her father's friends and not a contender for the girl's hand. Elizabeth's expression was one of boredom as she moved gracefully through the con-figurations, and soon her face was hidden from Jessica's view by the other dancers.
When Lucas returned and handed her a glass, he lifted his in a smiling toast. "To peace—in the near future."
Although Jessica knew that the war would end, the Americans victorious, in less than a year, she only returned his smile with a simple "Agreed."
"Do not think me impolite for not asking you to dance, but there is obviously another gentleman who has first priority on your attentions." As he spoke he glanced at Kit, who was squirming in his mother's arms.
"Yes, I'm afraid he does have first priority—aside from
which I've already told one young man tonight that I would not be dancing."
"Oh? Can I guess that Elias was that poor young man? I noticed him watching you earlier, trying to build up his courage at the punch bowl."
"I'm flattered, especially that he should be taking notice of an old married woman like me."
"He meant no offense."
"I know. He was offering friendship . . . as you are." A momentary silence fell between them; then Jessica spoke. But for the rum punch loosening her tongue, she might never have broached the subject. "Tell me if it's none of my business, Lucas, but it's Elizabeth who has your eye."
Seeming not the least bit put out, he said calmly, "No doubt that is obvious to all. Much good it does me, as I am sure you have observed. What were you thinking when you asked—of how little chance I have?"
"No, not at all."
"Afraid to give me your real opinion?" And at her silence, "I would rather you be honest with me. I think of you as a friend."
"I am your friend. All I can say is that Elizabeth is young. . . she doesn't know what she wants. I am really in no position to pass judgment."
"What does she think she wants?"
"From the little she has said to me, an established man who will give her everything her parents have given-wealth, prestige."
"What I thought myself. She has no use for a man just building his fortunes; nor for one not of her class."
"Not if it means she has to deprive herself. I don't mean to be cruel, and perhaps I am wrong. I can see your potential, Lucas, but I don't know if Elizabeth can."
"She has changed in the last year . . . had her head turned. I met her at a community party, much like today's. She hadn't been out much in adult society until then. I think I can be honest in saying we were attracted to each other from the start—there was a real look of interest in her eyes. We danced; she flirted. We parted on very good terms, yet I guess I was a fool to get my hopes up. The next time I saw her, there was a change in her attitude. It was as though she had been reminded of who she was, and who I was. We danced once that evening, but in the months that followed, when I approached her, she became increasingly aloof. I have just been too thickheaded to face the truth."
"Perhaps when she grows up a little . . ." Jessica offered feebly.
Lucas gave a wry smile. "Perhaps. I am sorry, Jessica. I had not meant to stand here and cry out my troubles over another woman."
"I started the conversation," she reminded him. "And I don't mind listening."
He placed his glass on a nearby table. "Well, thank you. Whether you intended it or not, you have given me much to think about. We will see each other soon?"
"Yes, I hope so."
It was an hour later before Jessica, Molly, and Jeb left for home. Kit was fretting, Molly tired; and Jeb had had more than his fill of- punch. Jessica had already fed, bathed, and settled Kit when the Beards arrived home. Cook prepared them a cold supper, then plopped into a chair, her feet up on a stool. She and Jessica talked quietly, both tired, as they waited for the Beards to retire. Fortunately the family went up early; it was just before ten when Elizabeth called Jessica.
The young woman wasn't in the best of spirits as Jessica entered her bedroom. Frowning, she threw her shawl over a chair. "What a tedious afternoon and evening. I thought Mama and Papa would never leave, and how my head ached!"
She turned to let Jessica unbutton her gown. "Although it would appear at least you enjoyed yourself this afternoon."
"It was pleasant." Jessica's voice was noncommittal.
"Only pleasant? No need to be so subtle. Everyone saw you flirting with Lucas St. John."
"He only came over to talk for a moment."
"It certainly appeared to be more than that."
"You are mistake
n."
"Do not tell me how to interpret what I saw with my own eyes! Lucas is very handsome, is he not . . . handsome enough to tempt even a married woman?" A small, malicious smile touched her lips.
"I do not know precisely what you may have inferred in seeing us chatting, but Lucas is no more than a friend. And there is surely nothing wrong in our conversing. I saw him speaking with you as well."
Controlling her irritation, Jessica helped Elizabeth from her gown into her nightdress, then hung the gown in the wardrobe as Elizabeth sat down at her dressing table and began to remove the pins from her blond curls.
"That is quite different," the girl said pettishly. "Of course Lucas would come over to me. It is known that he has a tendre for me though we are not social equals. But in your case . . . soon people will begin wondering, if they have not already done so, whether there is some truth in the rumors going about the neighborhood."
"What rumors?"
"Now, you do not need me to enlighten you there. Surely you are as aware as I am of what people are saying."
"No, I am not aware. I have little contact outside this house."
"Well, really, Jessica, to show up on our doorstep with an infant. . . a missing husband who has yet to show his face. Is it not obvious that people have begun to wonder if there is a husband—or ever was?"
Although Jessica had almost been expecting Elizabeth's insinuation, her face paled in anger. "And I wonder where those rumors might have started. The neighbors I have met have all been exceedingly kind and cordial to me."
"One wonders how long that will continue to be the case when you give so little appearance of the faithful wife. Rachel tells me it is not the first time you have carried on with Lucas. She saw your true colors the first day you were here, at the Christmas party, and with my own eyes I saw you and Lucas carrying on out on the lawn this past winter."
"Neither you nor Rachel has any right or cause to make such accusations! Nothing I have done warrants them.
Since the day I came to this house, you have disliked me; I don't know why. But I will not stand by and let you insult me