The Promise

by Marti Talbott

  In the study, Caleb began putting out the fire in the hearth. “And Mary's letter to Lady Phillips?”

  “Misplaced, unfortunately, at the bottom of the river. We simply cannot allow her to tell anyone where we are.”

  Sarah's time was drawing near. Her frock was a peach print, her white apron, and her bonnet plain. She put one hand in the small of her back, laid the other on top of her extended stomach and looked out the window at the end of the balcony. The bright sun in the clear blue February sky glistened across the dusting of snow that remained on the grass. She watched thin pieces of ice drift down river and when the baby kicked, she smiled. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement on the river, and she watched intensely as a barge rounded the bend. The oarsmen guided it to the end of Mahala's dock and when the door to the cabin opened, a man began wiggling his way out.

  Sarah shouted for joy, “HE IS HERE!”

  Elizabeth stuck her head out of a nearby bedchamber, “Who is here?”

  “Matthew is at the boat dock and he brings two ladies!”

  Elizabeth rushed to the window and threw back the curtains. “It is Matthew!” Before she could shout the news, three doors opened and the entire household began to rush toward the front door. “Mary, your coat!” But Mary was already halfway down the stairs without it.

  Elizabeth put an arm around Sarah and walked her down the balcony. “I'll not have you running down the stairs, do you hear?”

  Sarah giggled, “Does Matthew bring his wife and daughter?”

  “Aye. How I have missed them.”

  Outside, Etta opened her arms wide, then lay a loving cheek to Mary's, “My dear, do forgive our untimely arrival. I simply could wait no more.”

  Mary pulled away, beamed, and then rushed to greet Caroline.

  Matthew stood waiting, but when Mary looped her arm through Caroline's and started back, he tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I not get a hug? It was I who brought them.”

  Mary shrieked with delight, threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

  Matthew returned her hug and whispered in her ear, “We must hurry or we’ll miss watching Etta when she spots the statue.” Mary agreed and took his arm.

  Etta hugged Caleb, then Uriah, then John, and started for the door. Her chatter began immediately. “I have so very much to tell you of Boston and our sailing. Three revenue ships, mind you. Three! So this is the front door is it? Well, it is very nice, very nice indeed.”

  Matthew rolled his eyes, Caleb chuckled and Uriah opened the door. But it was not the statue Etta saw first. Instead, her eyes landed on Elizabeth and Sarah coming down the stairs. She tossed her fur muff in the air, rushed across the room, lifted her skirts too high and started up. Three steps away from Sarah, she halted. “So that's why my Matthew can talk of nothing else. You look precisely like his dead sister.” She started to hug Sarah tight, but noticed her condition and gently put a cheek to hers instead. “Oh never mind all that. Elizabeth, you look glorious. How have you...”

  The last to enter the room, Matthew handed his cloak and hat to Peter and leaned a little closer to Caleb, “She's not run down since we left Boston.”

  “It was the most tedious jour­ney I have ever endured,” Etta was saying, “We simply must have better roads! When next we come, it will be by carriage. I hate that drafty old boat, hate it I say.” She looped one arm through Elizabeth's, one through Sarah’s and escorted them on down the stairs.

  “Boat, she calls it,” Matthew grumbled.

  Etta was still talking at full speed, “Now my dears, tomorrow we will be forced, I am afraid, to board that dreary old barge and go to town. The baby, you know. And...” Etta stopped in her tracks. “Great Glory...I...cannot...”

  Uriah grinned, Caleb laughed out loud and Matthew motioned for Peter to come closer. “My boy, I have brought two boxes of Madeira wine, and no doubt we'll need every drop. Fetch them off the barge, will you?”

  Peter nodded but waited to watch what Etta would do.

  Etta was speechless for nearly half a minute before she said, “Oh my...oh dear me...oh my. Whatever are we to do? Cannot get it out, you say? And that sheet...well, it simply must go. Are you quite certain he is naked? Perhaps...” Unthinking, she started to lift the sheet.

  “Mama!” Caroline gasped.

  Mary giggled, “Come upstairs. We've a fine room for your rest.” She winked at Caroline and took Etta's arm. “We'll have a look later.”

  Obediently, Etta went with Mary up the stairs, often glancing back at the statue. Even when she reached the balcony she leaned over for one more peek.

  “Never seen the woman so quiet,” Matthew mused. When she was gone, he took a long slow look at the renovated room. “Well, well, my boys, you've out done yourselves.” Upholstered chairs and settees were arranged in matching sets along both sides of the newly painted walls. Tall stands with potted vines stood between more chairs in the middle of the room, and the polished floor reflected the clean silver candle holders on the walls.

  Caleb opened the door to the study. “Three revenue ships?”

  “Confounded King.” Matthew walked in, went to the stone hearth and stretched his hands over the rising heat. “We enjoyed a pleasant journey in spite of Etta's lively complaining. She is right about one thing. You must build a proper road immediately.”

  “In winter?” Uriah asked.

  “And why not? You can put the lumber to proper use, men need positions, and most of the way is already cleared. I‘ll gladly help with the expense.”

  “Aye, but the stumps.”

  “Burn them out, my boy. Pour a bit of whale oil and burn them out. Besides, your wives will soon waste away without the company of other women.”

  When Peter brought a bottle of wine and three glasses, Caleb relieved him of the serving tray and popped the cork. “Tell me, what news do you bring of the war with Pontiac?”

  “Great news indeed. The war thrives, remains well to the north and we again make a profit. There is one point of consternation, however. The King demands we supply at least one hundred regimentals per Colony. Retched King. He claims to uphold this war for our benefit, you see. Our benefit! And now...” Matthew paused, took the glass Caleb offered, and downed part of his drink.

  “Now...what?” Uriah asked, choosing a chair near the hearth.

  “Have you not heard?”

  Caleb handed a glass to his brother and sat down opposite him. “Heard what?”

  “About the billeting, my boy, the billeting for the King's regimentals.”

  Uriah was stunned. “Redcoats...living in our homes? But he cannot!”

  “Too late, he has already handed down his decree. We are to feed them, house them, and bed them in our own beds.”

  Uriah downed his drink, got up and poured another. “I'll not allow it – not at Mahala.”

  “CALM YOURSELF, MY BOY. He does his billeting only along the coast. The King fears a British revolt, so he sends his war, his regimentals, and all his expenses to us.”

  Asked Caleb, “Have the Colonies no recourse?”

  “The Whigs present our grievance to Parliament, but the King will ignore Parliament.”

  “He'd not dare billet regimentals in British homes,” Uriah muttered.

  “Indeed not, but the rest of us are nothing more than the King's ugly step children.”

  “Matthew, are they encamped at your home?” Caleb asked.

  “I should say not. I happily take advantage of my acquaintance with the Governor.”

  “And the smuggling?” Caleb asked. “Do the King's men...”

  “Confounded King,” Matthew interrupted. He rubbed his hands together for a moment, and then clasped them behind his back. “He's evoked an old decree not seen in a hundred years. All ships loading wares in any part of the world, must first sail to England, pay the taxes, and then sail to the Colonies. He’s set his privateers to attacking any ship that disobeys. He has us, you see. He's thought of nearly every angle.�
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  “Nearly?”

  “A smuggler has no choice but to turn privateer.” Matthew roared with laughter and kept up his laughter until even Uriah smiled. “Tell me, my boys, what are you to do with all this land?”

  Uriah retook his seat and shrugged. “We have not yet decided.”

  “Good. I feared you might try growing crops. Food is what we need least in the Colonies. What we must have are more horses. Did the Baron not leave you twelve?”

  “He did,” Caleb answered.

  “That settles it then. You will raise horses, the best horses in the land and sell them at a handsome profit. Even Billeting cannot provide the King with enough horses.”

  The following week passed quickly and too soon, the Carson's stood on their dock bidding farewell to the Hendersons.

  Matthew helped Etta and Caroline board the barge and turned to face Uriah. “My business prevents our remaining, you understand.”

  “We will miss you very much,” Elizabeth said, standing between Caleb and Mary. Next to Mary, Uriah stood with one arm around his wife.

  Matthew lifted his hat. “Five, I believe. Yes, five will do nicely.”

  “Five what?” Mary asked.

  “Five musicians for your ball.”

  Mary's mouth fell open, “A ball...at Mahala?”

  Etta clapped her gloved hands with glee, “Oh yes, my dear, you must.”

  Caroline added, “A spring ball, with music, dancing, and the most handsome men in the Colonies.” Noticing Matthew's glare, she stepped behind her mother.

  Matthew nodded to the oarsmen, winked at Mary and went on, “In May, yes the twentieth of May next. See that you have ample young ladies for the dancing. I've a few gentlemen friends I hope to bring.”

  Etta saw Mary's concerned expression. “You need not fret, my dear. We will arrive in ample time to help with the arrangements and I will see to new ball gowns personally. Now, we...”

  Etta was still talking, Matthew was grinning and Caroline had burst into laughter by the time the barge rounded the bend in the river and floated out of sight.

  The Carson's stood unmoving on the dock. Finally, Mary said, “A ball?”

  “And why not?” Uriah asked. He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Just like the balls at Shrewsbury.”

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Why not, indeed.”

  Caleb helped Elizabeth off the dock and started for the house. “I'll thank you to hold this ball without me.”

  “Without you?” asked Mary, quickly following. “You do not like balls?”

  Caleb stopped and turned back to face her. “I like the company, but I hate the dancing.” He held Elizabeth's elbow tighter, and guided her on up the path.

  Mary rushed around until she got in front of him and made him stop. “But you must dance with our guests; it is our duty to Mahala.”

  “It is only a property, Mary, it will not mind.” He brushed her aside, escorted Elizabeth up the steps and disappeared inside.

  By the time Uriah caught up, she looked determined. “You'll never persuade him, you know.”

  THE BOOK ROOM HAD BECOME a sewing room as well, with ample soft chairs, good light and warm colors. Elizabeth took another stitch in Caleb's new shirt, and then laid it in her lap, “Impossible.”

  “Not impossible at all.” Mary gently tapped the back of a book until it was even with the rest in the bookcase.

  “Matthew will expect women of quality and a servant will hardly do. I doubt they even know how to dance.”

  Mary plopped down in a tall backed chair. “Matthew will not be the wiser. We are servants and we have fooled him.”

  “Were? We are servants still. The only difference is, it is our house and we've not enough other servants to tend it.”

  “Elizabeth, be honest, do you miss the jokes?”

  “No.”

  “Well I do. It has been months since...”

  “Months? Just yesterday, you tied Lyndel's apron to a chair and the poor girl was still wearing it.”

  “So I did, and you laughed as much as I. Deceiving Matthew's gentlemen will be even more entertaining.”

  “What about the dancing?”

  “We dreamed of attending balls and taught ourselves. Others have done the same. Say yes, Sister. Please say yes.”

  Elizabeth studied Mary’s hopeful look, “Since when do you need my approval? You'll do as you please no matter what I say.”

  “True, but I will enjoy it more with your blessing.”

  “Oh, very well then.”

  Mary darted out of the chair, threw her arms wide and hugged her sister. “Sarah and Grace have already agreed to help.”

  “Why am I not surprised to hear that? And our husbands?”

  Mary quickly sat back down, “I see no need to tell them.”

  “I see, and if they discover us?”

  “They'll not discover us. And if they do, we will say it is for the good of Colonies.”

  Elizabeth put an elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her head in her hand. “This, I cannot wait to hear.”

  “Sister, we have often loathed the separation of the classes in England. Now, we've taken the opportunity of mixing them.”

  AS SOON AS SPRING CAME to Mahala, so also did the Hendersons, nearly all their servants, a barge filled with delights, and more Madeira wine. Matthew even managed to bring East India Rum and Jane talked of nothing but the handsome MacGreagor, who held the esteemed position of being captain to Matthew‘s schooner.

  As he promised, two days before the ball, MacGreagor and Mister Masters arrived in the company of Matthew's Boston Gentlemen. Mahala overflowed. Every bed was filled, as were most of the Inn's at Richmond.

  Finally, the day arrived. The servants awoke before dawn, made breakfast, prepared baths, finished the decorating and laid out new clothing. The ladies spent hours on their hair, giggled, drank tea, and gossiped about the men. The men seated themselves on Mahala's front verandah, admired the river, smoked pipes filled with Virginia's best tobacco, and gossiped about the women.

  MacGreagor held a basket with his only hand, Jane filled it with fresh cut flowers from the garden and both ignored the rest of the world. Often, he smiled at her and just as often, she smiled back. By noon, the cooking began. Soon, every room was filled with the aroma of honey bread, baked ham, wild turkey, and sweet potatoes. By two o‘clock, the children were put down for a nap and late in the afternoon, little was left to do – but dress the Baron.

  While Caroline, Mary and Elizabeth looked on, Etta watched Peter climb up a ladder. “Do be cautious, my dear.” Over her arm hung a long white length of material trimmed in gold braid. She waited until he was steady, then handed him one end of the cloth. “We must take every precaution not to make an exhibition. We will drape this cloth from above, and then add the other cloth as we progress.”

  “Yes, Mum,” Peter answered. He held the end of the cloth one way, and then held it up another.

  “No, no, not like that. Lay it over the shoulder. Pity about the head. 'Tis the most unsightly head I've yet to see. Oh well, never mind all that. No, no, my dear, the cloth goes down the front and the back, not down the sides. Oh my, I do hope it is long enough.”

  When the other women giggled, Peter turned to glare. He reached down and waited for Etta to hand him a pin. He pinned it one way, then another. He twisted the cloth to the left, then to the right, but the women giggled louder and Etta could not be pleased.

  Etta tilted her head and rolled her eyes, “Now, bring the cloth down the front. There you've got it. No, no, not like that. The pins must not show. You must curl the cloth. My, but you do not have the knack of it, do you?”

  “No, Mum,” Peter mumbled, dropping the cloth altogether.

  “Do not be in the least discouraged, my good man,” Etta said, quickly handing the cloth back. “We have time aplenty. Just turn the cloth under. No, no, not like that. Like this.” Etta bent down and lifted the hem of her skirt.


  “Mama!” Caroline protested.

  “Oh, Caroline, I am an old woman. If the man has not seen it before, he's not likely to know what it is. Now, Peter, it is done like this.” She rolled her skirt with exaggerated movement and pinned it together.

  Peter carefully watched, rolled the cloth and pinned it the same way. When he looked down, Etta was smiling.

  “I do believe you've got it. Now, the cord goes around his waist. Or does it crisscross? Oh my, I do not fully remember.”

  Elizabeth looked at the base of the statue. The foot had moved. As nonchalantly as she could, she walked closer, pretended to fix the vines, scooted the foot back in place, and stepped back.

  At long last, the Baron was dressed for company. As soon as Etta and Caroline went upstairs, Mary peeked at the husbands on the front verandah. Finding them involved in conversation, she grabbed Elizabeth's arm and pulled her into the book room. “All is well. Sarah says the ladies are dressed and have practiced the dance. So you see, we have nothing to fear.”

  Elizabeth found a chair to sit in and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Looking as peaked as she felt, she let out a soft moan. “Sister, tell me true. How long does this sickness last?”

  Mary knelt beside the chair. “Poor dear, being with child at a time like this is unforgivable. It will pass, I promise.”

  When sunlight yielded its brightness to the glow of evening, Mary stood in her bed chamber window. Already, a row of torch lit carriages had begun winding its way down the road toward Mahala. She watched a moment more, and then rushed to her dressing table. First, she smoothed the skirt of her blue satin gown and studied her reflection. Her bodice was cut low and her full figure had returned. Next, she checked the ringlets in her hair and carefully rearranged the delicate string of tiny white beads intertwined among them. Finally, she noticed Uriah. He was casually leaning against the door jam watching her.