Furmidable Foes

by Rita Mae Brown

  Harry nodded to the professor. “I’m in charge of Buildings and Grounds.”

  Once in Reverend Jones’s office, he opened the box where the necklace and earrings glittered in the rich blue velvet.

  “How beautiful!” Professor Lindstrom exclaimed.

  The ladies stepped back, throttling their urge to crowd.

  “May I?” She reached for the earrings.

  “Of course,” Reverend Jones said.

  She turned the earrings over, then turned them to their front side again. She replaced them, drawing her face closer to the necklace. “Extraordinary.”

  Mags, thrilled, offered, “Put it on me. Seeing it on a person might help. Reverend Jones, may I?”

  “If it will help,” he agreed with some hesitation.

  Janice lifted the pearls interspersed with diamonds from the velvet. “This is heavy.” She then placed it around Mags’s neck, fastening the old golden clasp, itself fine workmanship.

  “How could anyone walk?” Mags asked, as she in fact walked to the mirror on the back of the door. “I have never seen anything so gorgeous in my life.”

  Professor Lindstrom stared intensely at the heavy treasure. “It falls perfectly on you. Would you say you are, m-m-m, five foot three?”

  “Close,” Mags rejoined.

  “That would be about average. There were tall women, of course. These were made for a woman who could carry them. The style is high Spanish, most likely, given the design, from the early seventeenth century.”

  “So by the eighteenth century they were already heirlooms?” Susan was quick to figure things out.

  “These were made for a high noblewoman at the Spanish court. Remember, Spain was the richest country in Europe for centuries. There was a reason Queen Elizabeth encouraged Sir Francis Drake and others to fight and rob ships from the New World bound for Spain. Anything to weaken Spain and enrich England.”

  “Think that’s what happened here?” Harry was fascinated.

  “No way to tell unless we find records or portraits of an English duchess or powerful woman like Bess of Hardwick wearing them. Bess was rich, probably the richest woman in England. Convention meant little to her.” Professor Lindstrom couldn’t take her eyes off the necklace. “One of the reasons the necklace is so heavy is it encouraged the wearer to move slowly with a stately tread.”

  “Is it possible this necklace was bought from a Spanish family by new money here? In South America or the Caribbean?” Harry asked. “Families do lose money.”

  “It is. However, it is highly doubtful that anyone from our colonies bought it. This was not our fashion, plus the kind of public display did not come into fashion until much later, really with industrialization.”

  Reverend Jones folded his hands. “Fashion reveals much, I assure.”

  “Who would wear this here in Virginia in 1786?” Janice asked.

  “A woman, possibly titled, married to an ambassador from Spain, possibly a businessman from what we call South America, then called New Spain.”

  “Professor, why wear it, given our aversion at the time to such display?” The reverend wondered.

  “Well, it would display quiet arrogance, speaking of display. It would show us, former colonists, how drab we were, how insignificant in the Old World. This, whoever wore it, was a display of raw power. One could read it as a warning.”

  This created silence. No one had considered that.

  Finally Susan spoke. “So, whoever owned this, she, her husband, or possibly her keeper, might be in politics but not in tune with the New Republic.”

  “Exactly,” came the quiet reply from the professor.

  “Could it have been bought by a foreign businessman living here or visiting here but doing business outside our country?”

  “Yes. This would make a statement to whomever he did business with in Europe, even Russia. There was trade with Russia. It was picking up.”

  “Professor, any idea why the woman who wore it died of a broken neck?” Janice asked.

  A long pause followed this until Professor Lindstrom, forefinger touching her lips for an instant, proclaimed, “Obviously, she was hated, perhaps feared. Then again, maybe she should not have been wearing the necklace. She might have aroused a lethal jealousy.”

  Susan stepped around Mags. “We don’t want that to happen to you.”

  As she unclasped the fabulous piece, a dark cloud scudded overhead with a gust of wind.

  Harry shivered. No good will come of this, she thought to herself.

  36

  January 28, 1788

  Monday

  Like a thief in the night, the January thaw came and went. Ralston, Tidbit next to him, walked out to the large paddock, a few flakes smacking his face. Determined not to move like a man in pain, Ralston held his back straight, his head high. Opening the gate to the paddock, he turned Tidbit around, slipped off her halter, told her to go. She turned around, beheld her equine sewing circle, and off she galloped. Tidbit made him smile.

  Walking back to the mares’ barn, Ralston felt he would never be happy again. Without the horses he would feel even more lonely, miserable, angry. Believing he would find a way to free Sulli and kill William drove him on. Unrealistic as this was, the hope kept him moving.

  Ard waved to him. Ralston stooped.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mares look good. Be sure to tell me if anyone comes into season. Mr. Finney wants to breed a few of his mares.”

  “Yes, sir. He has some good ones.”

  “It’s a good thing they exercise themselves out there.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll ride anyone, anytime, but it’s so hard to keep your fingers and toes warm. Can’t feel my feet.”

  Ard chuckled. “Winter’s hell. Why the priest tells us hell is fire and brimstone, I don’t know. I say it’s frozen.” He pulled his scarf tighter. “Next stop, Dipsy.”

  “He can talk,” Ralston observed.

  Ard laughed. “Sure can, but I’ve never found he says anything.”

  Ralston watched as the farm manager walked off, then returned to cleaning the stable. Scrubbing the water buckets irritated him. Everyone has a least favorite chore. That was his. He picked up a stiff brush, chopped out last night’s frozen water, got to it. He wished he had asked Barker O more questions. Ralston was beginning to realize good people lived, worked, were enslaved at Cloverfields, and he was too foolish to learn from them. He swore he would learn from everyone around him here. He’d make money on the side. No matter how many years it took, he would one day make enough to free Sulli.

  * * *

  —

  Sulli, resigned to never being free, held a baby born blind. Olivia told her that blind people could do any number of things but you had to teach them. So Sulli held the baby, putting a rattle in its tiny fingers.

  Olivia came back into the building, unwound her scarf, and draped her heavy shawl over the old chair close to the fire. “Winter’s back.”

  “It is.”

  Olivia bent over, tickled the baby. “She’ll learn quickly. You’ll be surprised.”

  “Her mother takes her at night. Better she be with her mother,” Sulli responded.

  “People underestimate the blind, the deaf. But we have her in the day now and I’ll show you what to do.” She smiled broadly. “And we have years. But oh how fast they grow. Do you want children?”

  “No,” Sulli firmly replied. “I don’t want a man. I don’t want children. Why bring a child into slavery?”

  Olivia listened, thought. “I don’t have much of an answer, Sulli, but I truly believe if a child is brought into this world and loved, it is a good thing, no matter what the circumstances. And I also believe our Moses will come. I probably won’t live to see it, but I hope you do.”

  “Olivia”—Sulli’s voice re
gistered sorrow—“no one is going to free us now or ever. We’re like this blind baby. We have to grope our way through life.”

  “Chile, you’ve suffered a harsh lesson. Don’t let it spoil what joys you may have.”

  Sulli looked at Olivia, whom she respected. “I hope you’re right, but I’m not holding my breath.” She used the old phrase.

  Olivia sat next to her, took the baby, kissed her soft cheek. “In Christ we are all free. Give yourself to the Lord, Sulli. Look around you, look at the unhappiness. Doesn’t matter if they are rich, poor, white, or black. A lot of unhappy people. Jesus died for our sins. Believe in Christ. Have faith. The kingdom of heaven will be yours.”

  Sulli didn’t believe a word of it but she said nothing. It’s one thing to disagree, another to be blasphemous. She held out her finger and the baby wrapped her fingers around Sulli’s. A flicker shivered through Sulli. Maybe she wasn’t dead inside after all.

  * * *

  —

  While the flakes lazed down, Barker O and DoRe high up in their separate carriages, each wrapped in a heavy coat with an extra layer across the back, looked down at Jeffrey.

  “DoRe, you go right. Barker, left. Figure eights. I need to see the turning radius.”

  The two drivers did as asked. They arrived back in front of Jeffrey.

  “Drive almost down to the house. Turn back to me. Come straight at me.”

  Jeffrey knelt down, the earth cold and his knees now wet as he watched the carriage move off. His eyes never left the wheels. A badly set wheel is a disaster waiting to happen. He wanted to build carriages that could take punishment but have a bit of give. Both of the big beautiful carriages came toward him. They looked good.

  He stood up, oblivious to the cold, and gave more instructions. When all was done, Barker O and DoRe’s shoulders were white, as were their beaver top hats. The two men then unhitched the horses, leaving the carriages outside the big workshop. Men pulled those elegant conveyances inside, which Jeffrey also watched.

  “Balance. Balance. Balance,” he said to himself.

  Barker O and DoRe, all that leather in their hands, walked behind the unhitched horses, back to the barn. Pete and Norton ran out when they saw them, both young men deeply impressed by the skill the two drivers displayed. Barker O and DoRe, the best at what they did, possessed powerful upper bodies, sensitive hands. Joking, teasing each other, they walked into the carriage barn, DoRe first.

  Norton walked up to DoRe. “How about if I start with Doubloon?”

  “Fine. I’ll hold the reins until you’re done.”

  Pete ran up to the four that Barker O had driven and duplicated Norton’s method, which was to take the inside front horse first.

  Unhitching took twenty careful minutes. Once each horse was in his stall, the fellows took the heavy harness, then the reins from the drivers.

  Barker O walked to a far stall. “You know that sweet mare, Penny? Doing great. Miss Garth hopped up on her. Loved her. Said Penny would take care of her father. You know, this horse…” He turned, stopped talking, because Maureen walked into the stable.

  “How were my husband’s carriages? You know he wants everything perfect.”

  “Drove light as a feather,” DoRe answered.

  She nodded to Barker O, then stopped a moment.

  “I was surprised that you wanted the mare. She’s common looking.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but she will take care of Mr. Ewing and in time young John.” Barker O agreed with her, or at least said what she wanted to hear.

  “I suppose that’s wise, but your master looks good for his age. He should be on an elegant, powerful horse. Well, let me check with my husband to see if he is pleased.” She left them.

  No one said anything, continuing with their chores.

  Finally Barker O whispered, “She has eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “H-m-m.” DoRe nodded.

  “Where’s William?”

  “Working in a smaller workplace. Mr. Jeffrey wants to build work carts, wagons. He’s chained at night.”

  Whispering again, Barker O said, “Surprised she didn’t break his other leg.”

  “There’s still time,” DoRe whispered back.

  The two worked silently as the young men cleaned up the horses and then all would clean that heavy leather.

  While Jeffrey acted thrilled to see his wife and answered her questions about the drive, he mentioned that Barker O and DoRe had done a wonderful job, and might she send DoRe back to Cloverfields with Barker O so the two could work out a driving path and a field so he could run the same tests on all his carriages and the wagons he hoped to build?

  “Give the good man a night with his lady. I know I would be bereft if I could only be next to you once a month or so. A man needs the woman he loves.” This was followed by a warm kiss. She said yes.

  Later

  Bettina and DoRe sat by her fire. DoRe, in a close chair, held her hand.

  “Today I tried to wrap lamb chops in bacon. Have to try new things.”

  DoRe smiled at her. “You’re always coming up with something. Barker O and I are trying to figure out a course where Mr. Jeffrey can test his carriages and wagons. Can’t say as I have your flair, but I like new things, too.”

  “How’s William?”

  “He’s chained at night. She’s making an example out of both of them. Not that anyone at Big Rawly needed examples.” He sighed. “Elizabetta gave everyone that.”

  “She was never well liked. Not hated like Sheba but not well liked,” Bettina remarked.

  “Whoever gets close to the Missus thinks they can give orders. Goes to their head. No one can trust Miss Selisse.”

  “Not even Mr. Jeffrey?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. He dotes on her, tells her she’s beautiful. The man is no fool.”

  “You’d think that Sulli and William would have learned from Moses and Allie.” Bettina named the two accused of killing Francisco Selisse, who then ran off.

  “Young. Thought they were smarter.” He shook his head. “Every now and then Mr. Charles tells me about my boy. He’s doing good. Even when he was a boy, Moses watched and listened. William always shot off his mouth. People are just different.”

  “Moses still with that Irish captain?”

  “No. He lived there and worked for them. Still does things for them but he mostly works with carriage makers.”

  “Quakers?”

  DoRe shook his head. “No. The Captain is a Catholic. His wife, a Lutheran, and I don’t know what the carriage makers are, but the Quakers have people thinking their way. Never happen here.”

  “Surely William and Sulli knew that Moses and Allie ran away?”

  “Everyone did. My boy didn’t kill the Master and neither did Allie. I tell you, Bettina, I think it was the Missus herself or Sheba or both. Thick as thieves and they both hated Francisco.”

  She rocked, then slowed. “DoRe, you know that Moses and Allie hid in the caves. Rachel and Charles helped. Mr. Ewing doesn’t know and he never will. What I never told you was that Allie had a baby, white as snow.”

  DoRe nodded. “Francisco’s.”

  “That man deserved killing even if Sheba and the Missus did it. Both, well, all three, cruel.”

  “I know Allie hanged herself. I thought it was because she couldn’t follow Moses.”

  “No. If the baby had been his, she would have lived for it. I expect Mr. Charles and Mr. John would have gotten her up to Pennsylvania somehow. The sorrows of the world, DoRe. Such sorrow.”

  DoRe was quick to put it together. “Marcia. The baby Rachel passes off as her cousin’s, an unwed cousin, so it’s a family scandal?”

  “Rachel is clever. This way people can talk about the child but they have no idea.”

  “Miss Catherine and Mr. John?”<
br />
  “They know, of course. As does Father Gabe. I think Ralston figured it out because he was always lurking around the weaving cabin where Allie was hidden and delivered the baby. Another no-good one. Somehow he didn’t get caught.”

  “Miss Selisse didn’t pay for him.”

  “Still, they could have caught him.”

  DoRe grunted assent. “Sold him if they did. William says nothing. Sulli is with the simpleminded. I don’t guess they care.”

  “Seems to be so.”

  “So people here know?”

  “Our people know. No one will ever tell. Ever.”

  “She can pass that child.”

  “She can. I say good luck to her. If I could pass I would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Bettina, you and I will spend the rest of our lives together. You’ve told me a secret. I never suspected that little girl being Allie’s. Well, here’s my secret. I killed Sheba and buried her in the Taylors’ grave at St. Luke’s. They’d just died. Easy to do and no one would suspect. What she did to my boy, lying that he had killed Francisco, and that beautiful girl he loved, it was all unforgivable. My only regret is I killed her quickly. I wish I could have made her suffer.”

  “I understand,” Bettina calmly replied, for she did. “Did she steal the Missus’s jewels?”

  “Wore them. Wore them.”

  “Are they with her?”

  “They are. If even one of those diamonds or pearls showed up, well, I don’t know. Miss Selisse is still in a rage about those things.”

  “Anyone suspect you?”

  “No. I threw her in a cart, covered her with a horse blanket. Buried her in the night. No one will ever know.”

  “I truly hope not.” She rocked more again, then said, “You did the right thing.”

  “Bettina, some people are on this earth to hurt others. To lie, cheat, and steal. No one was ever safe at Big Rawly as long as Sheba was alive. The Missus has her spies, always will, but Sheba knew us, knew how our people think. She knew how to tell a lie with just enough truth to fire up the Missus. No one is really safe there now, but it’s not as bad as it once was.”