After ending the call, Harry relayed the message to Fair. “I have a funny feeling.”
“It doesn’t appear simple, does it? And where is the computer?” He wondered at this as well.
Harry called Cooper, home from work now. “Coop, it sure was good to see you today.”
“Mignon will be okay. It will take time. Sometimes a person’s memory returns.”
“Susan called me. I’m calling you because there are four things which don’t add up. I’m sure you’ve thought of them, too. First off, Mignon being hit over the head. Second, her computer is missing. Third, the governor struggling to the graveyard, and four, the marks on the mown grass. He grabbed grass to pull himself along and I fear died in pain.”
“Rick and I have talked about that. Mrs. Holloway requested his body be taken directly to the funeral parlor. Pushing her for an autopsy might not be wise.”
“Here’s what I can’t get out of my head. Why did the governor go to the Avenging Angel? He’s trying to tell us something.”
No one had noticed the small squares scratched onto the base of Francisco Selisse’s tomb. Placed there over the centuries, they called down curses. Could it be that a curse, undetected, had haunted the Holloways for more than two hundred years?
Sunday, April 17, 1785
Ewing Garth stared into the fire in his large sitting room. “It will be another frost tonight.”
Gathered around him, his two daughters and sons-in-law agreed.
John listened to the comforting crackle. “I thought we had harder winters in Massachusetts than here, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Most years I plant by now, but this year I am inclined to wait. After the last frost is the time.” Ewing sighed. “Charles, what hear you from your brother?”
“Parliament involves him more than he anticipated, though he likes it. Our father weakens but refuses to surrender his rounds of sociability. Nigel reports that France is embroiled in outrages over lavish expenditures by the queen, the nobility. Perhaps it’s human nature to shine, to be fashionable in address and dress.” He slightly smiled.
“Who spends more, men or women?” Catherine raised her eyebrows, ready for everyone’s response.
“Oh, women, indisputably.” Ewing placed his folded hands over his abdomen. “The cost of lace alone!”
Rachel laughed. “Father, who had to have a brocade waistcoat?”
“Now, dear, I can’t look raggedy when called upon to do business. A man is judged by his appearance.”
The sisters laughed, then Rachel replied, “So are women, and even more, Father, men are judged by the appearance of their wives, daughters, even their sisters.”
“Well, now—” Ewing tried to find something with which to counter this.
Filled with humor, John said in his deep voice, “I believe the ladies have a point.”
“Well, they do, but consider our wives, they need no adornment. Jewels pale next to them,” Charles added.
Rachel reached over to pinch him. “Very flattering, but jewels do not pale.”
“Sweetheart, what is a ruby next to your lips or a sapphire next to your eyes? Naturally, I am proud when we go in public and you wear such bewitching clothes, but I admire both you and your sister. You are not vulgar. Nothing is overdone.”
The two sisters liked hearing this but wondered if this would come back to haunt them if they happened to find an alluring bauble.
“He’s quite right,” said Ewing. “Your mother would wear her silk dress, the dark blue one with the bit of lace.” He patted his upper chest. “Her figure was beyond compare.”
“She also wore the diamond-and-sapphire necklace and earrings you bought her when I was born.” Catherine grinned.
Meekly, he agreed. “Yes. But, well, I don’t expect you girls to understand, but I found your mother most beautiful in the morning. She’d sweep up her hair with a ribbon, wear her flowing housedress, and when she walked, the skirt would move just so. Oh, what an apparition.”
The two young men nodded, then Ewing changed the subject. “Hiram finally removed the leaflets with the reward for information about Dennis McComb’s disappearance. Isn’t that odd? Nothing. You’d think someone would have at least found the body. Hiram believes Dennis found Moses, and was then killed by him. That’s a good story and certainly serves the purpose of pushing for more constables and at a higher salary.”
“He does have much territory to cover,” Rachel blandly replied.
“He does, but we must take care of our own problems.” Ewing held up his hands, palms outward. “I’m not saying we don’t need constables any more than I’m saying we don’t need a militia, but who is to pay? It seems every legislature in every state froths at the mouth, always over money.”
John and Charles had never told their wives what really happened on the way to York. Nor did they discuss it between them. Had to be done and that was that. Apart from stories about York, they mentioned that on the return trip they passed the farm wherein they’d spent a night. A beautifully carved sign now hung on a pole: TWILIGHT ACRES. The wives enjoyed that story.
“It is vexing,” John agreed, then added, “I know I am in the small numbers, but I believe we need a standing army and a navy. As long as the Europeans fight among themselves, they will leave us alone, but I believe once they realize the natural riches here, they will be back.”
Ewing was intrigued. “Do you really?”
Charles stuck by John. “Money is even more of a problem there than here. The British, the French, the Austrians, even the Russians, continue to advance in artillery. The Spanish possess a good navy and they are much closer to us than the others. When they look at the New World, they see riches to plunder, riches so they can build even bigger armies and navies.”
“Yes, the Spanish are in the Caribbean and beyond, but we must remember your countrymen also ply the Caribbean. I’m a simple man,” said Ewing, who was not. “I believe in trade. Trade brings peace. War disrupts trade, drags people down with heavy expense and taxes. Those countries overrun are despoiled. If I can sit at a table and deal with men different from myself, why can’t they? Which reminds me of Francisco Selisse, a hard man, to be sure, but he was tireless in his pursuit of profit and he always made sure something was left on the table.”
“Beg pardon?” Charles had not heard of that expression.
“The man was shrewd and difficult to overcome. But if you dealt fairly with him, even though he would get the better of you, he left money on the table so you had something. And he never, ever bragged about winning his hand, so to speak.”
“You dealt successfully with him.” Catherine said this with warmth.
“Yes. I found it more hospitable to form a few ventures with him than not. We did well on our timber purchases. However, look at the success of the forge at Scottsville. He had a feel for such things.”
“He was a brute,” Catherine pronounced judgment.
“He was.” Ewing, startled by the loud crack of a log, laughed at himself. “I don’t know how you two withstood all that gunfire during the war.”
“Harder on the cannoneers,” Charles said. “They went deaf.”
“The strange thing is, you get used to it,” John stated. “The bombardment at Yorktown seemed almost natural after a time.”
“Speaking of Francisco, Rachel, I think you will be owing me four embroidered pillowcases.”
Rachel, eyes wide, exhaled. “It’s not even a year. I thought Maureen would wait a year.”
Catherine laughed her silvery laugh. “I didn’t. Jeffrey Holloway is too handsome and she is going to snatch at pleasure where and when she can.”
This subject enlivened them all. Their laughter was so loud it awoke snoring Piglet.
—
While the Garths sat by the fire, the flickering light of another fire played on the ceiling. Ailee had gone into labor. Bettina, Bumbee, Serena, and other women attended to her. As this was the young woman’s first birth, she was fri
ghtened.
With the exception of Ewing, everyone on the farm knew about and protected Ailee. She had not needed to run onto the outside stairway and into the woods. It helped that it still felt like winter and fewer people were about. The large weaving lodge attracted no attention except for those few women who wove cloth. At night, Ailee would walk, hooded, with other women for a bit of exercise. Within a week of moving into the large loft, she recovered sufficiently to cook. She also learned to repair garments and to darn socks. She never spoke, nor did she smile, but she expressed her gratitude to others. She would take their hand and squeeze it.
The labor lasted six hours, exhausting her, but finally she delivered a healthy girl.
When Bettina held her up to Ailee, the new mother turned her face away. The baby was white. She was not Moses’s child.
Wisely, Bettina did not try to force Ailee to hold her baby. “Bumbee, fetch Ruth.”
Within minutes, Ruth climbed the stairs, removed her coat, studied the mother.
“Ruth, will you take the baby?” Bettina handed the tiny perfect little thing to the young woman, who was nursing her own baby.
Ruth couldn’t hold any baby, kitten, puppy, bird, without wanting to mother it. The little hands waved in the air. Ruth held the child against her bosom and rocked her. “Look at the face. What a pretty baby.”
Bettina, Serena, Bumbee looked at one another and smiled.
“Ruth, I will see that you are rewarded for this. Best go now.”
Ruth threw her coat back on, held the baby under the scratchy wool, and left while the other women cleaned up the place, as well as Ailee.
Bumbee sat by Ailee. “You sleep now. I’ll be here. I’ll stay up here.”
Bettina trod downstairs, brought up a pillow and blankets for Serena from her cot. “If you have to lie down, and I would, this will help. It’s going to be cold tonight. I’ll throw more wood on the fire on my way out.”
Bettina and Serena looked at Ailee, then at each other. Bettina put her hand on Bumbee’s shoulder and squeezed.
So much sadness and nothing to do for it.
Monday, April 18, 1785
Bumbee awoke with a start. She looked to Ailee’s cot, but the woman wasn’t there. Half asleep, she carried her blanket and walked down the stairs, ready to stir the embers of the fire, throw on some logs to warm up the place. The cold steps on her bare feet roused her. At the bottom she saw Ailee hanging from the top railing of the stairway to the loft. She’d twisted her sheet to make a noose.
Dropping her blanket, barefooted, Bumbee rushed out into the cold. Father Gabe’s cabin was the closest. She pounded on his door. Already awake, the old fellow opened it.
“Father, Ailee’s dead.”
After Bumbee told him what she’d found, Father Gabe gathered a few men. They cut the poor woman down, wrapping her in the sheet with which she’d hung herself just as Bettina and Serena hurried in.
Bettina touched the sheet. “Oh, child, what have you done?”
“Let’s bury her now,” Father Gabe ordered. “No laying out.”
So the straggly group shortly found themselves standing over a deep open grave, into which the wrapped body of Ailee was placed.
The light frost still made digging the grave difficult.
Bettina recited the benediction instead of the service for the dead. “May the Lord bless thee and keep thee, may the Lord make His face shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee.”
Bettina stopped at Ruth’s cabin, which rested on the north side of the row, closer to the main house. She knocked on the door, opened it to find Ruth nursing the two babies, hers and Ailee’s, with a two-year-old at Ruth’s feet, the fire warming them all.
“Ruth, the babe’s an orphan.”
Ruth looked into Bettina’s eyes. “Ailee wasn’t strong, poor thing.”
“She’d seen enough.” Bettina dropped into a handmade wooden chair next to Ruth. “I will talk to the Missus.”
Ruth nodded. “And I will pray.”
Bettina reached over to stroke the newborn’s cheek. “So much pain, so much pain.” Then she smiled. “But like a little cricket you’ll be happy and hop around. All your sadness came early.”
“Amen.” Ruth patted the baby’s cheek, as well.
Shawl wrapped around her, Bettina, always erect, slowly walked to the main house. Serena fell in beside her.
Serena felt dreadful. “If only we’d known how she felt. We could have talked to her.”
“Honey chile, if someone has a mind to leave this earth, you can’t stop them. They’ll find a way. Ailee’s with Jesus now, her sins are washed away. She was far more sinned against than sinning.”
“But to take your own life.” Serena gasped.
“A sin, yes, but she will be forgiven. Christ died for our sins. The Old Missus and I would talk of such things.”
“I barely remember her.”
“Her girls shine like she did. We will find out just how much today.”
“Oh, Bettina, they won’t cast out the little one.” Serena clasped her hands together as though in prayer.
“No, they won’t, but I have an idea.” That was all the formidable woman would say.
After making Ewing’s breakfast, hearing him prattle on about buckwheat versus old-time red clover, she and Serena washed up the dishes, stoked the kitchen fireplace. Then Bettina walked to the stable, where she knew she’d find Catherine.
“Jeddie, where’s the Missus?”
“Back paddock.” Jeddie pointed in that direction. “Serenissima’s paddock.”
Bettina found Catherine leaning over the fence, watching the pregnant mare walk.
“Morning, Bettina.”
“Miss Catherine, Ailee had her baby. Will you come with me and see?”
Such an unusual request alerted Catherine. She walked next to Bettina to Ruth’s cabin. Bettina said nothing. She knocked on Ruth’s door.
“ ’Min,” Ruth shortened. “Come in.”
Seeing Catherine, Ruth stood up, the two cradles in front of her and the two-year-old asleep on his small pallet.
Bettina slightly lifted the patched cradle blanket. “Born last night.”
Catherine leaned over. “She’s beautiful.” Then it struck her, the child was white. Ailee was light-skinned, but the child was white.
“Ailee hung herself this morning,” Bettina quietly informed Catherine.
The beautiful woman’s hands flew to her heart. “Dear God. Oh, Bettina, how could she? How could she leave this tiny little thing?”
“I don’t know.” Bettina shook her head. “I reckon when she saw the baby, she knew it was Francisco’s and she didn’t want it. She hoped it would be Moses’s baby.”
“Did she ever speak?”
“Never.”
Catherine sank into the handmade chair as Bettina sat on a sturdy bench and Ruth sat also. “Ruth, you are kind to nurse the child.”
“She can’t help how she came into this world. She will never know her mother’s love.”
“No, but she can know love. Ruth, I will pay you twenty dollars a month to feed the baby.” As this was a large sum, Ruth drew in her breath. “You will have anything you need for her, your baby and son. Don’t show her to too many people yet. I need to talk to my sister and to our husbands.”
Bettina’s eyes focused intently on Catherine. “Missus?”
“Bettina, how do you fight a scandal? If you deny it, nobody believes you. Not that anyone would think who this baby’s father is, nor that we harbored the mother. We will never speak of that.”
Feeling Catherine’s eyes upon them, the two women agreed. It wasn’t difficult to agree. That knowledge would be too dangerous.
“You all tell our people never, ever speak of Ailee or Moses,” said Catherine. “And we will never tell the baby.”
Ruth rocked both cradles with her feet, as her husband built them with rockers on the bottom. “Miss Catherine, what are you going to do?”
�
��Pull the wool over my father’s eyes. I hate to lie to my father, but there’s no other way. If I’m successful, I’ll tell you how to handle this and him. If I’m not, I don’t know exactly what will happen. You see, if I am right, she won’t be raised as a slave. She’ll be free. She’ll pass.”
Bettina sat up straight. “Lord, Miss Catherine!”
“What is gained by another woman being a slave? This little baby has a chance.” Catherine’s eyes shone brightly.
Ruth, smiling, looked down at the sleeping newborn. “Then we must all help her.”
—
One hour later, Catherine and Piglet had herded John into Charles and Rachel’s house. Working on his drawings, Charles reluctantly stopped, but he wasn’t peevish about it.
Catherine explained everything that had just happened.
A long silence followed.
“What can we do?” Charles was dumbfounded.
“We fight a scandal with a scandal,” said Catherine. “First, we tell Father that this is the illegitimate child of a townswoman. We feel we must not reveal her name to protect her, but I rashly promised to take the child.”
Rachel smiled at her sister. “Better I do that. You never do anything rash. You’re too logical.”
“Well, one of us has to do it. All right. All right.” Catherine pushed on. “We take the baby up to him, put her in his arms. We all four ask him to protect the child, to allow you two to raise her as your own.”
“That’s the scandal?” John wondered.
“The beginning. The next time there is a gathering, we take the baby. Naturally, everyone will buzz, and we tell them this is our cousin’s child and she was unable to raise it. They won’t believe it. They know we haven’t had children, but they’ll believe we’re protecting our cousin with a lie. We do have Mother’s cousins down in Charleston. Won’t be long before the rumors fly. And yes, people will know she’s illegitimate, but we will deny that, hotly deny it.”
Piglet barked.
“You, too,” Catherine said, breaking the tension.
“Is Ailee in an unmarked grave?” John asked.
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