Midday Ben Groot called down the companionway for Lauren. She was to see the Captain. She brushed her hands on her apron, lifted her skirts and climbed up on deck. It had stopped raining, but the sky was still cloudy and the deck wet. St. Clare was at the helm. He lifted his chin in the direction of the shore and said, “Stand by. We are almost there.”
Lauren looked starboard at the thick mass of trees on a point, then jumped off the poop deck, picked up her skirts and ran to the bow of the fluyt. Leaning forward, she held onto the rigging and waited. She could hear the rush of water as the fluyt sliced through the river. The sails snapped smartly in the wind, and the Pride groaned as she rounded the bend. Suddenly, the sun broke through the clouds illuminating a brilliantly colored riverbank running steeply upward into a cliff.
“There she is!” James shouted.
As Lauren’s eyes traveled up the slope her lips parted and she gasped. Several of the crew members stopped their work, hypnotized by the sun splashing the riverbank thick with yellow, red and orange leaves.
“For the love of God,” one of them uttered looking at the sight.
In summer the bluff would have been majestic, but in autumn the cliffs were breathtaking. The entire precipice was a wall of colors from the maple, birch and sumac. The jagged rocks interrupted the leaves with their sharp protrusions and a small water fall tumbled and trickled off the bluff. Shadows from the fast-moving clouds sailed across the treetops like a cutter in a tempest.
She did not hear James call to the crew to drop anchor. Lauren heard nothing. She was completely mesmerized. It wasn’t until Robert told her the Captain was ready to take her to shore that she realized the fluyt was at a standstill. St. Clare rowed the two of them to shore and hopped out, reaching for Lauren‘s hand. Holding her skirts high, she jumped from the boat onto shore and they started up the bluff on a deer path. The ground was wet and greasy from the rain, and Lauren’s hem was soaked, but she didn’t notice. She was far too enthusiastic about seeing her land.
The terrain was steep and on several occasions James had to pull Lauren up, but they made it to the top stopping by the waterfall. “This is your water source,” he explained. “There is a stream that runs through your property.”
They walked along the bluff until they found a clearing which gave them an unobstructed view of the Hudson and the fluyt waiting below.
“I had no idea it was going to be like this,” said Lauren.
“True, it is remote,” St. Clare admitted.
“I am not talking about that,” said Lauren. “It is by far the most beautiful place I have ever seen.”
James was pleased. “Down that way is Edith Quill’s place. She runs The Boar‘s Head. It’s the only tavern around here. She is a tough old bird but loveable.”
“So there is a road nearby?”
“Yes, it sits back from the bluff, running from Newbury to Hampsted. We could get supplies in for you that way or build you a quay on the river.”
Lauren gasped. It was daunting to think of hauling supplies up that bluff. “When we get back I would like to see the deed for my land,” she said.
“We will have to get it from Heloise and Cornelius.”
Lauren’s eyes opened wide with surprise, and James chuckled. “It is in Cornelius’ name. They do this for most of my properties. I pay them for their trouble. This way they appear wealthy, and I remain anonymous.”
The sound of thunder rolled through the valley. The clouds were forming quickly, and James took Lauren’s arm. “Come we must hurry. It is dangerous up here.”
He stopped before they started down and said, “We will discuss your deed shortly with Heloise because our next stop is at the Van den Berg manor to see the Benchs.
Chapter 39
“I have instructed Heloise to have a dressmaker to the house. Of course you will look like a pauper to them,” James announced before leaving the cabin the next morning. “I will drop you off and return in one week.”
Lauren was beside herself with excitement. A coach was waiting for her at the landing, and it took her on the post road to the Van den Berg Manor. The house overlooked the river and reminded Lauren of the homes of Kaskaskia, but on a much grander scale. It was a two story stone residence with access to the main level by two stairways in the front of the house. A galerie wrapped around the home just like the residences of the Illinois Country and several outbuildings dotted the landscape, including a tavern farther down the post road.
Several hounds met the coach broadcasting the arrival of Lauren to the inhabitants of the manor. A black servant stepped out of the house opening the door of the coach and pulled down the steps. It amused Lauren to see grand manners and gestures once more. It was reminiscent of Duke Street, and she knew that only an estate of this magnitude would suit Heloise and Cornelius.
The servant escorted Lauren up the wooden staircase and through the front door. She reached up to pull the pins from her straw hat and looked around. The front door opened onto a long hall, with rooms lining either side of the entry and a grand staircase leading to the second floor. The wood floor was polished to a high shine and several small end tables lined the walls with mirrors and fresh flowers.
Lauren untied the ribbons under her chin and was removing her hat as Cornelius came around the corner. “My God, Darling! What has happened to you!” he exclaimed, arms outstretched as he approached her.
“Lovely to see you too, Corny,” Lauren laughed, kissing him on both cheeks.
He stepped back holding her hands out, looking her up and down. “Oh don’t mind me. Aside from your sunburned skin, you look adorable,” and he turned her around. “How I’ve missed you!”
Corny had changed little; aside from some extra weight, he remained the same lovable dandy. He was attired in the latest fashion, his suit was of the finest silk, and Lauren noted his shoes were of fine leather.
“You look prosperous, Cornelius,” Lauren observed.
“Well we have earned our money. Mother will tell you more.”
“Where is she?” asked Lauren.
“In the sitting room, heaven forbid she gets up from her chair to greet you,” complained Corny.
“I will take your things upstairs, Miss,” said the servant. “Madame Bench will see you now.”
“What did I tell you?” Corny said, hooking arms with Lauren. “She has granted us an audience.”
When Lauren entered the sitting room, the first thing she saw was Heloise sitting in an armchair, a table pulled up over her lap, sipping tea and eating toast. Lauren smiled. Nothing had changed.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the darling of Duke Street,” declared Heloise. “Come over here child and give me a kiss.” Lauren obliged, pulling a chair over to sit near the matron.
Heloise reached out and stroked Lauren’s hair, looking into her eyes. “You are my little darling,” she said gently. “There,” the woman said, withdrawing her hand. “That’s enough of that. I had to do that for Corny’s benefit. He believes I am cold as ice.”
Corny did not comment. He was inspecting a blemish in the mirror. Lauren looked around the sitting room. It was small but meticulously decorated. There was blue painted wainscoting on the walls and around the fireplace, new oak furniture, and many volumes of books on shelves alongside elegant porcelain figurines. “Who lives here, Heloise?” asked Lauren.
“The Van den Bergs, they’re a merchant family from New York City. He inherited this tract of land some years ago. They have ten children, all grown now.”
“Where are they?”
“Heralding the arrival of their eighteenth grandchild in the city. They were devastated they could not be here during our visit, but graciously offered their home to Corny and I.”
“You aren’t considering moving here, are you? Surely the population is too small for you to establish yourselves,” Lauren observed.
Corny walked over and slumped into a chair. “Oh dear me, no, we tarry not.”
“We are here fo
r you, dear,” Heloise explained. “We are signing off on the deed to your land. James summoned me some months ago. We hide numerous pieces of property for him in our names. Everyone benefits. Appearing to be landholders adds credibility to Corny and I when we sweep into a new city, and James’ assets remain undercover.”
“Captain St. Clare has turned his liability of being without a name into an asset,” chuckled Cornelius.
“But mind you, the Van den Bergs know nothing of The Pride of the King. They are customers of James, not confidants,” cautioned Heloise.
She ran her eyes over Lauren and said, “The dressmaker is coming this afternoon.”
“The poor child needs help, Mother,” added Corny.
Lauren stood up and walked over to look at the porcelain figurines.
“Where did you go after Duke Street?” she asked.
“Oh dear Lord, where didn’t we go,” Heloise replied.
“Boston was a disaster,” commented Cornelius."
He turned to Heloise and asked, “Mother is it too early in the day for a drink?”
Lauren smiled, same old Corny.
“We finally settled on Newport,” Heloise said, ignoring him. “Boston was far too prudish. Corny didn’t fit among all those Puritans.”
Corny started to laugh, looking at his nails.
“We made several good contacts there, and it seems Corny has stepped into your position as bait.”
Lauren looked at him with surprise. He lifted his eyebrows and cocked his head coquettishly.
“He is quite talented,” Heloise continued. “In his avant-guarde way. And what about you, my dear?” said Heloise. “I see you have recovered from your hatred of--Leopold Fitch or dare I say his true name, Captain St. Clare.”
Corny looked up at Lauren. Lauren smiled and shrugged.
“Oh, secretive are we?” said Heloise.
“We have days and ways to get information out of her, Mother,” Corny said.
* * *
It pleased Lauren beyond measure to be back with her old friends. They had several days to catch up, and then Heloise had to get down to business and mix with the local patroons. By the end of the week, they were back to afternoon teas and evening fetes.“These people are small customers, darling,” Heloise whispered to Lauren one night at a supper given by neighboring gentry. “I wish James would make up his mind where we can be of most use. This damned war is upsetting everything. As you know he even talks of going back out to sea.”
Lauren looked at Heloise. “What?”
Heloise eyes grew large, and she turned quickly to the guest next to her.
That night, in the coach on the way back to the manor, Lauren said, “Heloise, what was that you said at supper tonight about James going to sea?”
Even though the coach was dark, Lauren could see Cornelius turn and look out the window, fearing a confrontation.
“Just that,” said Heloise curtly. “He mentioned that he may have to seek new ventures away from this part of the world.”
“Why?” snapped Lauren.
“Because--,” fumbled Heloise. “Well, because of failures in other arenas.”
Lauren’s heart jumped. “What arena would that be, New France?”
“I will not discuss it further. He will have to tell you more himself.”
“Oh yes!” cried Lauren. “He can tell me during one of those frequent heart-to-heart conversations we have!”
The coach was silent for a long time. All that could be heard was the beating of the horse’s hooves and the crunch of the wheels. Lauren stared out the window at the dark landscape, sick at heart. Heloise and Cornelius sat back in their blankets, tense and tight-lipped.
At last, Heloise shifted in her seat, fumbling for her tinder box and rolled tobacco. “Help me with this, Corny,” she demanded. After Corny helped his mother light her tobacco, Heloise took a puff, blew out the smoke and said, “I have known James since he was a very young man. You must understand, he too has an encumbrance, just like Isaac, Samuel Claypool and Henry Bologne. The difference is James bears his limitations on the inside.”
Lauren continued to look out the window, the carriage jostling her gently.
“I know he does not always talk with you. Experiencing human emotion is very difficult for him. In his quest for survival as a child he was so preoccupied with food and safety he never had a chance to be close to anyone. You and I have had years to understand ourselves and our feelings. He is just beginning. It does not surprise me that he has not told you about going to out to sea. There are many things he holds in secret. Few know his plans. Aside from me there is only one other person in the world who really knows what comes next.”
Heloise leaned forward and patted her hand, “You have chosen a very difficult man my dear, but he is ever so worthy.”
“That other person who knows everything about him,” Lauren said between her teeth. “Would that be his wife? Does she know everything about him, or does he keep secrets from her too? Am I one of those secrets?”
Heloise sighed, sat back in her seat and resumed smoking in silence.
* * *
The next day when Lauren came down to breakfast a servant told her that the Benchs were taking refreshment on the lawn with a gentleman who had called that morning. Lauren went to the window and saw Cornelius and Heloise lounging on chairs in the sun. They were sipping tea with a tray of sweetbreads on a table between them. No gentleman was around.
Lauren looked in the entry mirror to adjust her hair, picked up her skirts and started out onto the lawn. It was a long, manicured expanse which ran to the river bank. Since the estate was elevated well above the river a view of the water was impossible, but nevertheless the vista was sweeping and exceptional. There was a barn, stable and small mill made of stone not far from the main house and several peacocks strolled leisurely out on the front lawn They scattered when Lauren swept by, headed for Heloise and Cornelius.
“Good morning Dear,” said Heloise. “How did you sleep?”
“Not well,” Lauren said, stuffing some bread into her mouth without sitting down.
Cornelius chimed in, “Now darling. It is a brand new day. The sun is delightful. Let’s not speak of anything unpleasant today. You know how I adore that sassy, ‘Nobody is going to walk all over me’ pout of yours but perhaps another day. How about--”
“Who is that over there?” interrupted Lauren.
Cornelius exchanged a look with Heloise.
“Is that St. Clare?”
“Now Lauren,” warned Heloise.
“Oh look,” said Lauren in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “He is coming this way.”
St. Clare walked up the lawn, leading a chestnut-colored mare. He had been riding and perspiration soaked his shirt to his skin.
His smile dropped when Lauren burned a look into him, but he ignored it and said to the Benchs, “I have been thinking about buying this mare. Just look at her. She is over fourteen hands, simply amazing.” The mare tossed her head and pranced around nervously. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he continued. “But she is a hard ride. She needs taming.”
Cornelius started to laugh, and then covered his indiscretion with a cough.
Heloise looked at Corny and pursed her lips. Turning to James she asked, “James, what on earth do you need a horse for?”
“You’re right of course, old girl, but it’s fun to dream,” replied St. Clare. “I better take her back to the stable now. I just wanted you to see her.”
Holding the reigns, he started for the stable, and said casually over his shoulder, “Lauren, would you walk with me, please?”
Avoiding his eyes, Lauren accompanied James to the stable.
“I am happy to see you, Lauren but it is obvious you are not happy to see me. Now what is the problem?”
“When were you going to tell me you were putting out to sea?”
“When I knew that it was certain. Not before. Heloise must have told you.”
“Yes.”
Lauren stopped and looked at him. “Why don’t you include me in your plans?” she asked.
“Because, what goes on in every facet of The Pride of the King does not concern you.”
“Alright,” said Lauren putting her hands up. “I agree. I do not have to know all the details, but when something concerns you I want to know. Am I not a part of your life?”
He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. “The biggest part,” he said touching her cheek.
“Then talk to me. I want to know who you are. There seems to be a whole side of you I don’t know.”
He let go of her, and they started walking again, James holding the reins and the mare trailing behind them. “I am not like you,” St. Clare said. “Words bubble freely to your lips. It comes easily for you.”
He stopped as if he would tell her something, and then changed his mind. He gave the mare to a stable boy, and they walked out onto a stone bridge by the mill.
“The first time I saw you at Heloise’s dinner party on Duke Street I was mesmerized,” he explained. “You were quick witted and outgoing with that disarming smile of a pirate. I was completely enchanted with you. You were fast to anger and fast to laugh, with a joy for living I wanted to capture for my own. You are everything I am not, Lauren. Soon I will tell you more. But for now I must ask you to wait--”
“Wait for what?” Lauren said, her eyes flashing. “For you to tire of me and return to your wife? I won’t do it James. It’s different with you. I can have business liaisons with others, but I cannot--I cannot be your whore.”
St. Clare ran his hand through his hair exasperated. “You just don’t understand.”
Lauren searched his eyes but found no answers. The wind blew her skirt and leaves skittered out onto the water, swept away by the current.
The Pride of the King Page 27