The Glovemaker's Daughter

by Leah Fleming

  For many months I had been a stranger in their midst, unruly, proud, questioning the rules of discipline. It was hard to sit and take their pious suggestions, well meant as they were, knowing I no longer wanted to be part of their tribe.

  We were no different from our neighbours in the Lenape village. We had our distinctive dress rules, our spiritual pow wows and rituals and manner of speech that set us apart from others.

  We had come across the ocean to protect these precious ways of worshipping, and to keep faith, people like me must bend not break. There could be no picking off the ripest fruits from this basket of beliefs. I would obey this but not that. A woman who chose to marry outside the ordinance no longer belonged within. The choice was stark. If I were to leave without permission of our congregation, that would be final. If only it were that simple. But how could I betray the very parents who had stood firm in their imprisonment by my desertion? Their memory was sacred to me.

  ‘Joy, you are no longer a child but a woman who has crossed the ocean, forged a new life and friendships in a world they never knew,’ a voice was whispering in my inner ear. ‘Your choices must be your own and any price you pay for them.’ Why was I using ‘you’ instead of ‘thee’? Had I already trespassed into the other world out there, the one that contained the man I loved?

  Early on the morning of the women’s second visitation, I asked leave to visit White Deer with a few gifts and treats for the children in the little school. I wore my new outfit and cloak and carried the biggest basket I could find, hidden in which were my indenture papers, my gloves and personal toiletries. I kissed Liddy’s golden curls and waved to the boys, walking away from Emsworth’s farm hiding my tears.

  I had vowed never to shirk my duty and to see out my servitude but needs must. Once more I was running towards a new life, not away from anything. It was the only way I knew to get myself to Philadelphia before the tracks were frozen over. It was a cowardly way but there was a note by my pillow thanking Joseph and Mary for their kindness and asking forgiveness for making a choice of which they would never approve.

  As Good Hope faded from view, the seriousness of what I was doing hit hard. I had told no one of this plan, not even Tamar. I did not want her involved in my deception and if she did have strong feelings for Jacob I wanted to clear the path for her to make them known in due course. Perhaps one day she would also forgive me for not saying goodbye. Jacob had not come near me since the day of the meeting. I owed him no explanation.

  At the Lenape village, I was greeted as always in friendship. I gave White Deer some of my rough wool stockings made last winter and asked if anyone was able to ferry me down to the nearest landing stage where I could catch a boat to the city. I offered a little silver and tobacco leaves to one of Little Bear’s friends who was going fishing.

  ‘You go market?’ White Deer asked.

  ‘I go to see my friend Sabine. I will come back to see you.’ It was all I could say that she might understand.

  ‘Go well, k’neXa’sin . . . Take care.’ She waved me down the path. In my heart I guessed we would not meet again. With each beat of the paddle, the canoe carried me from the forest clearing down the fast-flowing river to the landing stage where the boats bobbed on the water. I did not look back for fear of wanting to turn back.

  On the ferry I had time to dwell on what must be done in the city. First I would put myself in the hands of the Boyers once more. What if there was no room? How would I earn a living? I felt for my fancy gloves. I must sell them to pay my way.

  Dear gloves, now was the time to let them go, for this glovemaker’s daughter was not worthy of them. They belonged to my mother. Once again a small voice whispered. ‘No, they never were hers but your grandmother’s. She gave them in good faith. Now they are yours to do with as you like. Don’t make an idol of them. They are just skin and baubles after all.’

  Soon Philadelphia grew large on the horizon: smoking chimneys, ships with tall sails, all life bustling along the shoreline. I would miss the peace of green pastures and forest glades but this must be my hiding place for now.

  Wrapping my cloak and hood around me, I scurried away from the noisy harbour and rough taverns towards familiar streets, my head bent into the wind.

  The compass of my life was shifting. Here I trusted I would find my true north.

  I hurried down the cobbled street towards the Boyers’ shop but then I saw the sign above the door was no longer there. It was a shop selling liquor and groceries. For one awful moment I wondered if they had gone back to France. My legs almost buckled with fear as I opened the door. ‘I am looking for the Boyers.’ My voice trembled with uncertainty.

  ‘They moved up the hill to a bigger place. Just make towards the Town Hall and you’ll see the sign.’

  How relieved I was to know they were still trading, but my body was tense as I trundled uphill recalling the terror of when George had his accident.

  The shop had two fine windows of displays and a smart wooden door with panes of glass to peer through. I was not the sort of person to make purchases here. The fabrics on display were of the finest quality: sateens, brocades, silks and velvets with braids and trimmings in a rainbow of lush colours. I waited, hesitant, as the assistant came to attend me. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Is Mistress Boyer at home?’

  ‘Who is asking?’

  ‘Miss Moorside, late of Good Hope. I am a friend.’

  ‘I will see if she is free to receive you,’ he said with caution, unsure of my poor clothes and faded bonnet. He ran upstairs and then down the fine wooden staircase dressed in deepest black came Sabine, her sleeves edged with black lace.

  ‘Joy, ma cherie. Mon Dieu! Come in. I can’t believe it is you.’

  ‘I came to see Marianne and to ask a favour,’ I blurted out.

  ‘You ask nothing until you have a dish of hot tea. You look so cold and pinched. We thought you dead but you have survived. Praise God! Who rescued you? We were all praying for your safe return but as the weeks went by . . .’

  In the warmth of her embrace, I felt hot tears flowing, tears of relief to be among friends who would make no judgement on me.

  ‘There’s so much to say but first I must confess, I have run away, renounced my membership of meeting, abandoned my fiancé. Perhaps you will prefer not to give me tea or sympathy.’

  ‘Sit down, sit down. Louie will bring us cordial and when baby wakes we will play with her while a bed is made for you.’

  The luxury of spiced cordial with toasted muffins and fruit conserve was brought to the table in the upstairs drawing room.

  ‘How is Henri?’ I asked, smiling at his portrait on the wall.

  ‘He departed this life only a month ago. It is his room we can give you.’

  In my selfish need I’d not observed her mourning clothes. ‘I am so sorry to hear this . . . But your baby is well?’

  ‘Marianne is full of life. She was her grandfather’s delight to the very end.’

  It was like old times sitting by a fire talking as the light faded and the lamps were lit. I recounted all that had happened in the past months.

  ‘You have left your church?’

  ‘There was no choice. It is a strict and narrow way. Their judgements are harsh on any who fall below expectation. I no longer see my faith in that light and yet I know I have betrayed all those who had faith in me.’

  ‘I don’t understand. You were always so dedicated to the Seeker way.’ Sabine looked concerned.

  ‘When we were rescued by the local tribe and returned to the township, all that mattered to them was the anxiety we had given them about certain matters. No one seemed to care about our suffering. There is a phrase in the Bible: Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.

  ‘Sometimes the faithful observe the letter of the law but not its spirit. They cannot bend and I cannot make a bridge to meet them any more.

  ‘Tant pi
s . . . ’tis a pity for it is no little thing to cut oneself off from your fellowship. They have lost a great worker in you.’

  ‘Alas that’s another matter, I have not finished my duty of service. No one will want to give me work knowing this.’

  ‘We heard you saved their child from captivity. I would count that as service indeed. You owe them nothing now, Joy. Come, enough gloom. Marianne will cheer you with her prattling. Jerome is busy measuring for fabric drapes. All the new town houses want curtains to draw against draughts and to hide their shutters.’

  ‘Can you use another pair of hands below stairs?’ I had nothing else to offer them.

  ‘Of course not, you are family now and besides I think there’s another reason you hastened in this direction, n’est-ce pas?’

  I found myself blushing. ‘Have you heard from Captain Thane?’

  ‘What do you think? We were the first to hear of your capture. He searched and searched.’

  ‘He thinks I’m dead. I couldn’t have him thinking that. I have to see him again.’

  ‘He may be on the move. The war continues against the French in the north and some of the militia are summoned to join in the battles.’

  ‘He has left then?’ My heart sank at this news.

  ‘Not yet. But we must let him know you are here at once.’

  ‘Perhaps he has forgotten me by now.’ I was being coy.

  ‘I think not. We will give him a wonderful surprise with perhaps a little extra toilette for your hair and a pretty dress and cap to delight the eye. If you mean to cross over into more colourful clothes, it will be my delight to help you,’ Sabine laughed and I knew under her skilful hands, Huguenot as she was, there would be a transformation. Then sense prevailed.

  ‘No, not yet, the Captain must see me as I am and in sombre hues. I too must mourn Henri. He was a fine gentleman who gave me courage at a dark time. Colour can wait.’

  39

  My pen trembles as I recall that first sight of Jordan racing up the stairs two at a time, thinking there was something serious and his services were needed. I peered out of the shadowy corner by the gallery waiting to make my entrance, still in my drab browns but with my hair piled up in the current fashion with loose tendrils framing my pale face. I heard them chattering in the sitting place, offering him wine and ringing the bell for a servant. This was my cue to appear and bob a curtsey. ‘You rang, Mistress?’

  Jordan turned and I saw such a look of surprise and delight in his reaction that it has stayed with me all my life. ‘Joy, is it really you? We heard rumours that some settlers had escaped but I dared not hope . . .’

  I couldn’t speak for the joy of seeing such pleasure on his face at my appearance.

  ‘I’m staying here for a while until I settle myself.’ I was trying to stay calm but Jerome and Sabine smiled as they tiptoed out of the room leaving us alone.

  It took all of a second for us to rush together in an embrace. He kissed away all the sorrows of the past months. His loving touch was all that was needed to still my questioning heart. This was where I belonged.

  ‘I searched for you for days and days. We followed your signs in the hope of catching up but the trail went cold on the other side of the lake. I had to turn back for we were needed to guard from further raids. The fighting in the northern Provinces has unsettled tribes down as far as Virginia. We may have to leave at short notice to give support.’

  ‘Sabine told me as much. But not yet, surely? We have so much to share and so little time.’ I clung to the tobacco scent of his jacket, the coolness of his brass buttons on my cheek, the warmth of his hands on my body.

  ‘Then let us wed and live as one for as long as we can. Will you need permission?’

  I shook my head. ‘I left the community. I am of age and have waited too long dithering. The ties that bound me are cut. They will make no claim on me for I am an outsider now, having forfeited all rights owing to me by abandoning my post.’

  I was sitting on his knee when Sabine and Paul returned with a tray of fine glasses. We shared our news and my heart was bursting with excitement that all would be well.

  ‘You will be married from this house but where do you choose for the ceremony?’ Sabine asked.

  ‘Not in the new meeting house here. Will your own church accept us?’ I ventured knowing it was not the roof over our heads that mattered but the love in our hearts as we plighted our troth to each other.

  ‘You are both Protestants. I see no barrier but we will make inquiry of our pastor. We will invite friends to be witnesses and to join us for a wedding breakfast. First though, thee and me must do a little dress making.’ Sabine laughed and it felt as if the room was filled with light.

  There has been so much sadness in my life’s journey that it delights me to pause awhile over one of the happiest of times in my long life. Starting afresh in the big city as wife of an officer of rank would mean some changes to my speech and dress, and after years of speaking thee and thou, to address men of rank only as equals was not easy to unlearn. I fear I have never quite mastered the finer courtesies of deference.

  My eye faltered at the choice of fabrics Sabine suggested when it came to making up a bridal gown. She brought out golds and russets and greens to compliment my colouring but they felt bold and awkward to my plain eye. I settled on a cheerful deep forest green to offset my sandy hair. The design was modest but she insisted I wore a pretty golden collar edged with lace.

  We made a visit to what I had always called a steeple-house. It was the first time since that attack in Windebank when village men killed my schoolteacher. How could I not feel ashamed to now be entering this place? Was I letting all my family down? The pastor was welcoming. His church was plain and unadorned. I was sure the Almighty heard the prayers of those who worshipped here as the Great Spirit listened to the prayers of the Lenape people. What mattered was the sincerity of a loving generous heart.

  On the morning of our wedding, I stared at myself in a long mirror for the first time. We had no mirrors but caught glimpses of our reflection only in glass and water. I was still dressed plain. The habit would be hard to shift. My collar lifted the wool but something was missing and I knew in an instant just what was needed.

  In the cabinet drawer where I kept my papers, I fished out the linen bag to pull out those beautiful skin gloves. They were a little faded but the seams were intact even if the lace was dull. I slipped them on to my hands with such tenderness, pulling them gently down each finger, thinking of my grandmother, the bride who had worn them so long ago on her wedding day. They were old-fashioned relics of a bygone age but to me they were the perfect link from my past to brighten my future. I would wear them this once and then let them go.

  I gazed again at my dress enlivened by those fine gauntlets, the lace cuffs linking to the lace on the collar. That was enough adornment for this ceremony.

  I would remove them when I accepted the Captain’s gold ring. Seekers wore no rings but I was no longer one of them and I chose to wear this symbol to proclaim my love for him. In Henri’s room I smiled, recalling how he had warned me not to marry for duty or comfort alone but to give myself body and soul to a passionate man no matter how poor he might be. These be wise words, I reckon.

  On my head for once I wore no plain cap but a wide-brimmed hat with feathers like a cockade and a little veil to protect my face and hide any tears.

  It was the season of Christ’s birth which they call Christmas. I had only known this celebration years ago in the Justice’s house. Sabine brought greenery into the house from the hedgerows and flowers for the wedding breakfast table. How could I repay their generosity? We had met in the darkest of hours on board the vessel but now we were joined in a friendship I hoped would never end. Her respect was wealth indeed.

  In contrast I must record the difficult meeting I had when Tamar came into the city to seek me out and suggest I return to explain myself. ‘Thee can’t just walk away from thy obligations, giving no reason to Ja
cob or the family who supported you. It is badly done, a selfish act of indulgence,’ she said with a sniff.

  ‘Are these your words or Jacob’s?’ I asked, refusing to rise to her accusations. ‘Do you begrudge me a chance of happiness with the man I love after all we suffered together? I thought you were my friend. We are taught to follow the inner path of conscience, those gentle whisperings that speak of love and truth and honesty. I have made my choice with my heart not my head, Tamar. There is no going back. Wish me well in my new life as I wish you joy of your own with Jacob. Seekers are loving and forgiving people, we are told many times, so now let me see some of that in practice. Words without deeds are shallow empty noises.’

  I could see her torn by my reply so I tested her even further. ‘It would be a joy to me if you would attend my wedding.’

  ‘Thee knows I can’t. It would not be approved.’

  ‘Not even for friendship’s sake?’ I took her hand. ‘But I understand how it is. No matter what separate paths we now tread, I would like to think we would still keep the bridge of friendship open between us. You and I are more than our beliefs and differences. We sheltered each other when all was lost. I owe you much and will bear no ill will if you can’t attend. Give me your blessing if nothing else.’

  Tamar did not reply. How could she, torn as she was between friendship and the pull of her community? She hugged me hard and then left. I did not expect to see her again.

  When the moment came to leave in the carriage for the wedding on that day so long ago, I was ready to meet Jordan in his scarlet tunic looking so handsome in my eyes. The service was simple, but I smiled when I saw his men standing guard outside holding swords over our heads in honour of the day.

  I lifted my veil to see a little crowd of well wishers and to my surprise I think I caught a glimpse of a white cap and tall bonnet, a grey cloak, a tall figure hanging back out of sight. I often wonder if I imagined this, such was my hope that Tamar was still my friend. I will never know if it was her own small act of defiance in witnessing my wedding or just a curious bystander who paused en route to her daily chores to see if the bride was known to her.