The Promise

by Marti Talbott

  Matthew blotted the last drop of perspiration off his forehead, folded his handkerchief and stuffed it in his coat pocket. Next, he pulled out his reading glasses, put them on, and pretended to admire a large landscape painting.

  Caleb walked to the stairs, leaned down and felt the top of a warped step. “This is easy to repair. A bit of wood and...”

  “Aye, and while we're about it, we can clear the land, carry water, replace the windows and wash the linens,” mumbled Uriah.

  “Well, I like the place. I find it most agreeable.”

  Uriah folded his arms, “And do you also believe Elizabeth will find it agreeable?”

  “Once it is presentable, yes.”

  “Precisely how long will it take to make the place presentable? A month, two, a year perhaps? Do you think to leave our wives in Boston?”

  “Certainly not.” Caleb brushed the dirt off his hands, “Brother, we will make them love it somehow.”

  At last resigned, Uriah closed his eyes and nodded, “Aye, somehow.”

  Caleb looked up at the long balcony. “How many rooms are there?”

  “Twenty four,” the woman said, cautiously moving out of the shadow.

  Matthew happily clapped his hands, “Sarah, where have you been? I had begun to imagine all manner of dreadful things. Gentlemen, allow me to present Sarah. Now tell me, my dear. What's become of you?”

  “He run us off, Matthew. We've been in the woods a fortnight.”

  Matthew wrapped his comforting arms around her. “In the woods with no warmth in winter. The despicable braggart. I tried to buy your contracts, you know, but he would not sell.”

  “How many of you are there?” Caleb asked.

  “Twelve.” Sarah answered. “Twelve pillars, twelve windows facing each direc­tion. Twelve hearths for warmth, twelve rose bushes and twelve silver tea trays. There is twelve of nearly everything.”

  “Why twelve?” asked Caleb.

  “The twelfth in the line of his Lordship's birth,” she answered.

  Matthew patted her on the shoulder, “My dear, good news. We have seen the last of that man. Heretofore, the Carsons own the property. Where are the others? Bring them in, my dear, bring them in.”

  One by one, another woman, a teenage girl and seven children cautiously entered, with two men bringing up the rear. The men removed their hats and bowed to the Carsons. Just like Sarah, they all wore shabby clothing with no shoes. Five-year old Adam grinned up at Caleb. He pretended to remove his hat, swung his hand through the air as he bent and brought it to his chest.

  “Bravo,” Caleb cheered. “Has Mister Henderson taught you that?”

  “Uh huh,” little Adam grinned.

  His arm still around Sarah, Matthew said, “Well now, let me see. On the one hand, we have gentlemen badly in need of service. And on the other hand, we have servants badly in need of positions.”

  “Matthew, I...” Uriah started.

  Caleb interrupted, “Well, we could use the help.”

  Uriah narrowed his eyes at his brother, “Yes, but our wives.”

  “By the King, I've got it!” little Adam boldly announced. “You Sirs, will have posi­tion with us!”

  Caleb laughed. He knelt down in front of the boy and ruffled his hair. “You fancy this place, then?”

  “Oh, very much, Sir. I would like a fine swing in the back some day, and shoes...if it’s not a bother. I could...”

  Wide eyed, Sarah grabbed her son's arm and pulled him away. “Adam, 'tis not proper to ask.”

  Uriah surveyed the hopeful expressions on all their faces, particularly Caleb's. Finally, he sighed and turned to the two men, “I would like to offer all of you positions with us. We'll pay a fair wage with ample shoes and a swing for Adam.”

  “Truly?” Peter Williams asked in disbelief. “Pay?”

  “Excellent!” said Matthew, clapping his hands again. “Peter, which rooms still has windows?”

  “The small sitting room, some of the bed chambers, the music room, the kitchen, and the book room. Oh and the servant’s quarters. He never did go in our rooms,” Peter answered.

  “Good. Build a pleasant fire in the kitchen and the sitting room? Have we any food?”

  Still holding Adam's hand, Sarah curtsied. “That we have aplenty. And Matthew, I am with child.”

  “Oh my, you best sit down, my dear.”

  “'Tis not that, 'tis a proper cradle I'll be needing.”

  Caleb's smile broadened, “A proper cradle it is then.”

  “I would be happy with a bath,” the eldest girl mumbled, heading toward a door near the stairs.

  Peter snapped his fingers and in a flurry of activity, the servants scattered in all directions. The children fled out the door to gather eggs and milk the cow. The men and the eldest boy hurried away to gather fire wood while Sarah and Grace went to the kitchen.

  Sarah stopped. She dug into her pocket and slowly turned to face Caleb, “You'll be needing these, Sir.” In her hands, she held several of the missing door bolts.”

  Caleb’s eyes widened. “Great glory, it’s another Mary.”

  Sarah scurried through the door and once more, the three men were alone in the rubble of the assembly room. Uriah wasn't smiling. Instead, he was thoughtfully rubbing his temples. “Brother, how are we to explain all this to our wives?”

  MARY ADJUSTED HER WHITE shawl. Seated in the Henderson’s sitting room, she pushed her needle through the front, flipped the cush­ion cover over and withdrew it from the back. Then she laid her embroidery in her lap and took a forgotten breath. She watched the expressions on Elizabeth's face change as she read the words of her borrowed book. Then she inspected the fire in the hearth. Finally, she turned to look out the large window. “It's snowing.”

  Elizabeth put the marker in her book, laid it down and walked to the window. “What fun John will have when he awakes. Did Caroline and Etta go to town?”

  “They did. They fetch new cloth, you know.”

  Elizabeth puffed her cheeks, “I grow weary of the fittings and we've more than enough clothing to last a life time.”

  “True, but it pleases Etta and gives the servants something to do. How can we refuse?” Mary set her sewing aside and joined her sister at the window.

  “I miss him so, Mary.”

  “Of course you do. You were only just married when we left England. It is too soon for separation.”

  “How did you endure all those weeks of Uriah's absence?”

  “I had no other choice.”

  Elizabeth changed the subject, “If our husbands are not thieves and we do not truly have an Aunt Charlotte, then where did the jewels come from?”

  “Perhaps they found them. There was that day Caleb went to Manchester, you may recall. You said yourself his countenance changed.”

  “Why did they not just tell us they found them?”

  Mary considered the question, “Well...because a wealthy man is an easy target for robbers. Think of the unsavory men we were forced to endure on the voyage, and how much we would have fretted knowing we had a fortune in jewels to protect.”

  “Perhaps you are right. They were wise not to worry us and no doubt they will tell us once we have homes of our own.”

  Jane arrived with the afternoon tea. “Did you see the rider? Etta sent word that they will wait in town until the snow subsides.” She poured two cups of tea and uncovered a dish of cookies. “Miss Mary, Etta says you are to eat every last crumb.”

  “Jane, no one can eat twenty or thirty times a day.”

  Jane giggled, waited for the sisters to sit down and served them. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” She set the tray down and hurried from the room. When she came back, she held a letter in her hand. “For you, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Me?”

  “From your husband.” Jane nodded and left the room.

  Elizabeth quickly examined the writing on the outside, broke the seal, and began to read in silence.

  “Elizabeth,” Mary inter
rupted, “surely you do not mean to keep me in suspense?”

  “Oh all right. It reads:

  My dearest Elizabeth. Be assured we are both well. We have finished our travels, are gladly back on land and quite content. I must however, apprise you of a most unfortunate circumstance.

  Mary bit her lip. She waited, but her sister continued to read in silence. “Elizabeth, what is it?”

  “Oh sister, you were right.”

  “What?”

  “Our husbands have murdered Aunt Charlotte!”

  “No!” Mary lunged for the letter, grabbed it away and began to read: “I regret to inform you we have arrived too late. Our beloved Aunt Charlotte has sadly passed.”

  Mary threw the letter in the air and shrieked with laughter. “Poor Aunt Charlotte!” She pulled herself together, retrieved the letter and handed it back. “Read on if you dare.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “We are deeply grieved, as you can well imagine. We made mention of Aunt Charlotte, you see, to Matthew who sent an express telling of our intent to visit.”

  “How very helpful of Matthew,” Mary giggled.

  “Not two days later, a lawyer bestowed upon us the grievous news of her passing.”

  “A lawyer? Fancy that. Do you imagine the Lawyer's name to be Matthew Henderson?”

  Elizabeth watched Mary's face as she continued, “So distressed was he, Uriah was without speech for fully twenty minutes.”

  Mary rolled her eyes, “That, I would have liked seeing.”

  “Then, my dearest, we were advised of something wondrous. We have inherited all of Aunt Charlotte's wealth. It was Matthew...” Elizabeth stopped reading. “Oh Mary, they have no intention of telling us and they have involved poor Mister Henderson in their deception.”

  “Poor Mister Henderson indeed. Now they are three birds of a feather, and you and I will completely enjoy their distress. Perhaps we might ask to see the grave, or insist upon naming a daughter Charlotte. The possibilities are endless. Read on, sister, read on.”

  Elizabeth cleared her throat again. “It is a fine property in the foot hills of Virginia. We have named the place Mahala.”

  “Mahala? Sister, their mother's name was Mahala.”

  “Was it? I'd not heard that.”

  “What else has he to say?” Mary asked

  “I implore you and Mary to join us immediately. Matthew makes the arrangements. On the third of the month next, you will sail on his ship. Be not alarmed, it is not a bad voyage. Until then. Caleb.” Elizabeth put the letter down and took a long breath. “Oh Mary, think of it. We are to have our own home at last.”

  Mary took the letter and examined all the pages. By the time she finished, her smile had faded. “Could my husband not have written something? Had he no words...not even for his son?”

  Elizabeth saw the hurt in her sister's eyes. “Surely he did not intend to slight you. Perhaps Caleb did not give him the opportunity.”

  Mary walked to the window, folded her arms, and watched the snow fall.

  MR. MACGREAGOR DID notice her, it could not be helped. When Jane boarded the ship behind the Carson wives, her limp drew the attention of all the seamen. Yet she was not like other women. She wasn't vain or proud and didn't talk incessantly. Nor did she try to attract the attention of the other men. She wore pale colors with small prints, a simple bonnet and her smile was warm. No indeed, she was not like other women – for Jane did not look unkindly on MacGreagor's lack of an arm.

  During most of the voyage the women stayed inside, played cards, worked their embroidery and entertained John. When they neared the mouth of the James River, they happily stood on the deck in the cold and watched. In the early afternoon, Jane took young John to the galley for a treat, leaving Mary and Elizabeth to play double solitaire alone.

  “Mary, we are nearly there, yet you are unhappy.”

  “He never writes, Elizabeth. Not once did he send a post in all the time we lived in England. Why was that? Am I to suffer the same indifference still?”

  “Why, Mary Carson, I do believe you've finally gotten angry.”

  Mary threw down her cards, stood up and walked to the port hole. “All my life I dreamed of having a husband. But never did I imagine he would not love me. Elizabeth, suppose he had a mistress in London? Suppose it is she he loves and not me?”

  “I asked.”

  “What? Asked who?”

  “Caleb. He said he knows of no mistress. He also said Uriah does love you very much.”

  With tears clouding eyes, Mary softly bit her lower lip, “Then why does he...”

  Someone knocked on the door. Elizabeth laid her cards down and got up to answer, “Mister MacGreagor, do come in.”

  MacGreagor quickly removed his cap. “Bloody...begging ye pardon, Mrs. Carsons. Revenue cutters, Mum. Two of 'em. Matthew said not to out run 'em. Best ye come topside. Cook will keep the boy where it’s warm.”

  As soon as he was gone, Elizabeth closed the door. She turned and just as she expected, Mary's face was drained of color. “Sister, we are in America, they'll not bother us here.” She helped Mary on with her coat, grabbed a heavy cloak off the back of a chair for herself, and escorted her sister up the stairs.

  “Is there no other way?” Mary muttered.

  “Well, we could make a swim for it.”

  Just out of sight on the bank of the James River, Uriah stood with one foot on the ground and the other on a pile of cut wood. He watched as two revenue ships approached the schooner. He studied the markings on both cutters and held his breath when the Redcoats boarded Matthew's ship. Then he watched his wife. Elizabeth stood on one side of Mary and Jane on the other. MacGreagor and Masters positioned themselves directly in front of all the women. The search took nearly half an hour and in all that time, Mary did not move. She held her arms tight around her waist with her eyes down. Finally, the regulars returned to their dingy and rowed away. Then Elizabeth put her arm around Mary and took her back inside.

  Uriah waited. He watched the men board the cutter, set sail, and allow Matthew's schooner to pass. Then he got on his horse and rode back toward Mahala.

  CHAPER XVII

  MacGreagor answered all of Mary and Elizabeth's questions about the countryside as best he could, and occasionally he smiled at Jane. Still, the hours seemed endless. Finally, a short distance past Richmond, Caleb was spotted standing on a dock waving his arms wildly. Once landed, he quickly hugged his wife, situated her and Mary inside the cramped cabin of the barge, and put John on his lap. Impatiently, he waited for the baggage to be loaded and the barge to be shoved away from the dock. He had much to tell and not nearly enough time to tell it.

  “Did I not say in the letter? The place was let,” Caleb said.

  Mary pulled her coat tighter against the cold, “Let was it? I see.”

  “Aye, to a hateful man.”

  “Do you mean Aunt Charlotte let the place willingly to a hateful man?”

  “Well...” Caleb started, his eyes shifting, “I suppose she did. The point is, he has departed, gone back to England and...“

  Mary put a hand out and lovingly touched his arm, “Poor, poor, Caleb. I see such pain in your eyes. Is Aunt Charlotte put down at Mahala?”

  “Put down? No, not at Mahala. As I was saying, the...”

  “In Richmond then? Has she a proper head stone?”

  Caleb's look shifted between Mary and his wife. With sadness, he bowed his head, “I neglected to ask where she is buried. How very shameful of me. It was all so sudden, you see.”

  “There, there,” Mary said, patting his hand. “We'll not speak of it then. You were saying?”

  Caleb looked relieved, “I was telling of Mahala. The Baron...”

  Again, Mary interrupted, “Why has my husband not come with you?”

  “What? Oh, the fault is mine. One of us needed to remain, and I pleaded to be let go.”

  “What at Mahala cannot be left unattended?”

  Caleb lifted his hat and
scratched his head. “My dear sister-in-law, are you to allow me to explain or not?”

  “Please.”

  “Very well then. Mahala is not in the best of conditions. It is in need of a few repairs.”

  “What sort of repairs?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Well, proper glass is not easily obtained in the Colonies. We must send to England for it.”

  “Are all the windows broken?” Mary asked.

  “Not all the windows and Uriah has boarded up the ones that are.”

  Mary giggled, “Uriah – with a hammer and nails? Oh, do go on.”

  Elizabeth had begun to view her husband with a hint of suspicion. “Are there more repairs?”

  “A few, but Matthew has kindly arranged our credit in Richmond and restoration has already begun in earnest. We need only...”

  This time it was Elizabeth who interrupted, “My dear, are there proper beds to sleep in?”

  “Of course there are. In fact, there are far more beds than we will ever need. There are beds, tables, chairs, and desks all over the house.”

  “All of which need repair?” Mary asked.

  Caleb's shoulders slumped, “Of a truth, all but a few are broken. There, I've said it. The place is in shambles, Mary, unfit for neither man nor beast. But we'll make it fit. And I'll not rest until you are the happiest wives in America.”

  Elizabeth reached out and took his hand, “I am already the happiest wife in America.”

  Mary covered her mouth and snickered, “It will pass, sister.” She looked away just before Caleb lifted Elizabeth's hand to his lips. “Tell me, how many rooms are there?”

  Caleb let the wiggling child climb down off his lap before he answered his sister-in-law. “It is a very large house.”

  “I see. It is a very large house let to a hateful man. The windows are broken, the furniture is in need of repair, and it could use a bit of cleaning?”

  “Well, yes. But we are not to be without assistance.”

  Elizabeth pulled her hand out of his and glared, “What sort of assistance?”

  “You need not fret, Elizabeth, we pay them a fair wage and we already burned their indenture contracts.”