Broken Pledge

by Marti Talbott

  “Hester?” John asked, his eyes widening.

  “So you have come at last,” Hester Wyley said, finally looking up.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you, naturally.”

  “But...I don’t understand.”

  “Then I will explain,” Hester opened the nearest door and disappeared inside.

  For a long, tedious moment, John stared after her. Then he released Rose, followed Hester into the music room and closed the door behind him.

  “Great glory, that despicable woman is back!” Uriah said too loudly.

  “Perhaps we should go into the study,” Caleb said, opening a door on the opposite side of the assembly room. “You see, she arrived quite unannounced, and...” he went on, pulling the study door closed behind his brother.

  The youngest set of twins watched Uriah and Caleb disappear, glanced at each other and shrugged in unison. “Everyone has such secrets, you know,” Effie said.

  “Everyone but us,” Abby agreed.

  THE LAST RAYS OF AFTERNOON sunlight streamed through the well-cleaned windows and sparkled on the highly polished walnut furnishings in the music room. A harpsichord stood in the middle of the room with a white lace doily and three-tier candelabra placed on top. To the left was a violin and music stand, complete with handwritten sheet music. A large, gold-trimmed harp sat on the floor to the right of the Harpsichord, with three velvet-tufted chairs dotting the rest of the room.

  As soon as John closed the door, Hester threw her arms open and rushed toward him.

  “What are you doing?” he blurted out, sidestepping her and moving to the middle of the room.

  “It’s quite all right,” Hester said, “we are engaged, you know.”

  “Engaged? Have you lost your wits? A married woman cannot be engaged.”

  “I am not married, I am widowed,” she said, moving toward him again.

  He quickly stepped back and put a hand out to stop her. “So you claimed last time.”

  “But I was mistaken last time. This time I am not.”

  “I see.” John tightly folded his arms, “How gratifying. I hope you did not tell him that.”

  “Of course not, he would not have understood.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “Then you wish to break our engagement?”

  “What engagement? A married woman cannot be engaged!”

  Hester took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “As I have already said, I am not married, I am widowed.”

  “Are you quite certain?”

  “Quite, he was killed by a horse. If it pleases you to know, I witnessed it myself.”

  John noticed her pained expression and lowered his eyes. “I am truly sorry.”

  “You are forgiven.” Her expression quickly brightened. “Now, when shall we marry?”

  “Hester, I...”

  “Oh, I do hope it will be soon. I can hardly wait to be Mrs. John Carson. In a month then...no, that will not do, Maralee and Dulane are to marry next month. Perhaps two months.”

  “Wait, this is too sudden. I cannot think clearly.”

  Hester absentmindedly smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt. “I cannot imagine what there is to think about, but if you insist. Come to my Uncle Dunlop’s tomorrow and we will settle the matter then. At four I think,” she went on, heading for the door. “Yes, four o’clock will be acceptable.”

  “I hardly think that’s appropriate. A gentleman does not call on a lady when she is in mourning.”

  Hester turned back to face him. “Oh, for pity sakes, John, when has tradition ever stopped a Carson? I shall expect you at four.”

  He watched her leave, sat down on the stool, put his elbows on top of the harpsichord, and buried his face in his hands.

  Soon, Adam peeked through the open doorway. “Have you survived?”

  “Do you know what she thinks?”

  “Indeed I do,” Adam strolled into the room and plopped down in a chair near the harp. “We’ve had the pleasure of listening to her marriage plans since she returned to us in March. She takes every opportunity of joining us, even when she’s not been invited, and I do believe the poor girl enjoys no other society.”

  “What am I to do?” John asked, burying his head in his hands again.

  “Do? Can there be any doubt? Hester Sue Wyley is the most beautiful woman of our acquaintance. Marry her, and marry her quickly before she fancies another.”

  “POLLY WILL NOT BE PLEASED,” Uriah mumbled, downing half a glass of rum.

  “Then Polly does not hate John?” Caleb asked, using a long, thin matchstick to light the candles on the wall of the study.

  “Of course not,” Uriah rested an arm on the ornate hand-carved mantel. “She loves him, he loves her, and she will make a fit wife for the home he desires in the Kentucky Territory. I promised his mother, you know.”

  “Then you’ve forgotten.”

  “Forgotten what?”

  “It was you who found Hester for him,” said Caleb.

  “Well, perhaps I did, but that was before he desired to go west. I cannot imagine Hester in the wilderness. She’s too...”

  “Particular?”

  “Precisely. Polly is strong and determined. Once she has her heart set, nothing can dissuade her and she has her heart set on my son.”

  “Has John said he loves Polly?” Caleb asked, cupping his hand around the flame, and then heading across the room to light more wall candles.

  “He would never tell me if he did, but I have seen the way he looks at Polly. He has a passion for her, he does not have for Hester...not before the war and not now.”

  “Is she as beautiful as Hester?” Caleb asked, finishing his task, and then tossing the stick into the glowing embers of the hearth.

  “Perhaps not, but...”

  “You have a problem then. Hester fully intends to marry John, and I for one doubt he can resist her. What man could at his age?”

  “What man could at any age?” Uriah mumbled, glancing at the wall. Suddenly, he caught his breath. “It is our father’s sword!” He set his glass on the mantel and carefully took the ivory-handled sword off the wall mounting. “It was I who chipped it. Father let me hold it when I was quite young, it was heavier than I expected, and the blade struck the stone stairs.” As gently as he took it down, Uriah mounted the sword back on the wall, returned to the mantle and downed the rest of his drink. “Precisely how much rum do we have?”

  “All of three bedchambers,” Caleb answered, refilling his brother’s glass.

  “Here at Mahala?”

  “I hardly think Elizabeth would overlook that,” Caleb put the stopper back in the bottle, and then took a seat on a short davenport near the hearth. “We hide it in MacGreagor’s house at Yorktown, and it is quite safe now that the British no longer search our homes.”

  “At least the end of the war brings us that good tiding.”

  “Aye, and a circumstance we could never have anticipated.”

  “Which is?” Uriah asked.

  “The people want a king.”

  “SERIOUSLY?” JOHN ASKED, moving from the harpsichord to a more comfortable chair on the other side of the music room. “The people want a king?”

  Adam nonchalantly plucked one of the shorter strings on the harp. His sandy hair was parted down the middle with three rows of curls on each side. A wide gold braid trimmed his maroon jacket, and big gold buttons adorned his white vest and the outside seams of his breeches. “Not all the people, naturally, but some have become quite insistent.”

  “And who, pray tell, do they desire to crown?”

  “General Washington.”

  “Another King George? It is good to see Americans have not lost their humor.”

  This time Adam plucked two strings. “Laugh not loudly, my friend. Some are quite serious.”

  “And does Washington fancy himself king?”

  “Sadly, he has declined. However, several other men, rumored to be of the utmost ill r
epute, have kindly offered to set aside their more demanding concerns in favor of accepting.”

  John chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. And you, do you favor a king?”

  “Well,” Adam started, pausing to scratch the tip of his nose, “we must have leadership of some kind. There is madness among us, you know. We’ve become thirteen separate countries who cannot decide upon the laws individually, let alone collectively. Monday last, a matter of grave importance came to our attention. Can you guess what?”

  “No, what?”

  “It was the street lanterns in Richmond and the quandary is this: who will light them by night, who will put them out by morning – and most perplexing, how will we pay the man who does?”

  “And this they could not decide?”

  “Not in six bloody days.” Adam plucked three inharmonious strings. “A king, particularly our own King George, could have settled the matter in six minutes.”

  “But Adam, I fought to save us the trouble of sovereignty.”

  “So did I, but—”

  “You? From behind which bush did you fight the British?”

  “Did you not hear? I was at Yorktown. I admit I delayed my enlistment until our victory was at hand, but I arrived in sufficient time to watch the surrender.”

  “From behind a rather large bush?”

  “Naturally. War can be somewhat precarious, you know,” Adam lifted his chin and plucked still more strings.

  John lowered his head and looked at his best friend through the tops of his eyes. “Adam, we grew up together in this house. In all that time, why is it you have never learned to strike a happy chord on the harp?”

  “Me, play the harp? Unthinkable!” Adam quickly set the harp aside and folded his arms.

  Both men were quiet for a moment. John’s grin faded as he lightly ran his hand over the smooth surface of the mahogany arm of the chair. “I don’t believe I’ve been in this room since Mama died. She loved playing the harpsichord and I can almost hear her music. It is good to be home, but I find this room intolerably empty without her.”

  Adam allowed John’s words to hang in the air while he interlaced his hands in his lap. Then, he raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Your Aunt Elizabeth told us, you know.”

  “Told you what?”

  “About she and your mother being servants in England. It was quite by accident she let it slip. During a peaceful evening’s meal, we embarked upon a rather common discussion of slavery, and one of the babies said something unfortunate. Suddenly, Elizabeth was enraged. As you are well aware, your aunt becomes quite lively when provoked.”

  John chuckled. “Indeed she does.”

  “I daresay, when she finished her colorful discourse on the degradation and humiliation of cleaning an ungrateful woman’s chamber pot, not one of us dared sanctify slavery. She was right, of course, and now we all stand firmly against it.”

  “Then why are there slaves at Mahala?”

  Adam shifted his weight and crossed his legs. “Because the only civil thing Virginia has done since the war is to pass a law allowing us to free our slaves. Mahala does not own them, she employs them. We give them sanctuary for a time and then see them safely to Vermont, where slavery is abolished. Soon, Pennsylvania will do the same.”

  “I see.”

  “We pay them a fair wage, I assure you. But John...” Adam hesitated, looking John straight in the eye.

  “Yes, go on.”

  “Well, it’s only that...well, we do not openly say they are free.”

  John’s eyes shifted and his brow slowly wrinkled. “We do not say they are free?”

  “It is quite simple really. Slaves bring a handsome price, and freed slaves often fall victim to kidnapping. Therefore, Mahala’s Africans remain safe as long as others believe they are Carson property. Furthermore, sheriffs in search of runaways constantly plague men who employ freed Africans – a plague we are determined to avoid.”

  “So, we do not say they are free?”

  “Not to anyone,” Adam answered.

  “But why does Mahala employ Africans? Surely with the war ended, white servants are more in need of positions than ever before.”

  “My, but you have been in the wilderness a long time. Servants are a thing of the past. Men no longer offer indentured contracts, and even if they did, few would accept. Have you not heard? There is land to be had in the West – free land for the taking.”

  “You mean servants will not work? None of them?” John asked.

  “Why should they, when they can simply walk across the mountains to land of their own? So we employ Africans and attempt to help them. Papa teaches them carpentry; Mama, cooking and sewing; Rose, gardening; and Hester...”

  “Hester teaches them?”

  “She is a teacher after all, when she’s not married, I mean. People must learn to read and count money. Who better to teach them than a teacher?”

  “She is here daily?”

  “Do you find that disturbing?”

  “Well, yes, if you must know. I need more time.”

  Adam shifted his weight again and wrinkled his nose. “More time? My friend, is there something you have not said?”

  John got to his feet, walked to the window and stared out. “I’ll have your head if you tell, but in the wilderness there is a girl whose memory I cannot seem to be shed of. She is hateful, spiteful, wondrous and exquisite all at the same time. When she sings,” he went on, turning back to face Adam, “it is as though the whole world pauses to listen. And when she looks at me, I tell you, she sees my very soul.”

  “Great glory, you are in love with her!”

  “Am I? Then how is it seeing Hester again excites my memories of love for her? Tell me, can a man love two women at the same time?”

  “YOU HAVE NOT CHANGED a thing,” Uriah said, glancing around the study. His roll-top desk was still against the wall with bookcases on either side. The davenport, two overstuffed chairs and the reading table remained just as they were when he left.

  “Why would I want to?” Caleb asked. “I spend little time in this room, save for when I hope to avoid the ladies. They hardly think to look in here. But brother, I can wait no more, tell me about the settlements.”

  “Well, it is an altogether different world,” said Uriah, finally sitting down in his favorite, overstuffed chair. “The people have very little, they labor greatly to clear and work the land, yet, they appear far happier than we. Daily their numbers increase, although most have the good sense to journey around the mountains. There are far more men than women, naturally, and when they congregate for a house raising or corn husking, they feast madly and drink corn whiskey until they fall asleep where they sit. Before that, they play all manner of games. They race horses, arm-wrestle, roll an odd fellow or two down a hill in a barrel, pitch axes, and tell far more dubious tales than any I have ever heard.”

  “How wondrous.”

  “Yes, well, unfortunately such occasions are seldom. Their children die far more easily than ours. They’ve no medicines, scant few doctors, insufficient tools, meager clothing, and rarely did I see a book, or a shelf to put one on,” Uriah said. “We had nothing to read but our Bible.”

  “That reminds me, have you accepted Mary’s challenge to read the Bible and find the way to be with her in heaven?”

  Uriah slowly lowered his eyes. “I would do anything to be with her again. I dream of her still, and in the night, I reach out, find my bed empty, and the longing begins anew. On the other hand, the way to heaven is not so easily found. Have you any idea of the number of pages in that book? I’ve not yet completed Jonah and the whale.”

  “I see,” Caleb waited several moments before asking the next question. “Tell me, did you find the bounty land Virginia set aside for her soldiers?”

  “We did. Unfortunately, the Indians yet occupy most of it. Settlers named it the Cumberland valley and it is good land, except for that which has an odd black grease in the water. But brother, even if John did pref
er the land, claiming the bounty will not be easy. A man must prove his service, and John doesn’t know what became of his certificate of discharge. He believes he received it while the fever was upon him, and in his hunger, he may well have eaten it.”

  “Can’t he simply request more papers?”

  “Aye, if he can find his commanding officers. General Greene has surely gone back to Rhode Island by now, Captain Morgan might well be dead, and he cannot recall where Masterson was from.”

  Caleb thoughtfully scratched his head. “That is a problem.” Abruptly, his eyes lit up. “Brother, did you truly fight Indians?”

  “Fight them? No, but we did encounter them and far more quickly than we hoped. We had only just crossed the mountains and happened upon a pleasant river where fish were plentiful. I drew my sword, plunged it at a fish and missed. After the third, or perhaps the fourth attempt, we found ourselves surrounded by laughter.”

  “Laughter?” Caleb’s eyes danced with excitement.

  “I tell you, that pitiful dog of ours has lost her hearing. Not a whimper did she make to warn us, and the forest was so dense, we couldn’t discern where the laughter was coming from. Then a man spoke, saying he had never seen men so ill-prepared to survive in the wilderness.”

  “In English?”

  “The king’s own. Naturally, I challenged the man to show himself, but he would not—not until we disarmed. No sooner had we set aside our swords and muskets than seven Cherokee stepped forward, one so close I could have touched him, had I known he was there.”

  “How splendid. Were you frightened?”

  “A little perhaps, but the one who spoke soon eased our fears. His father is British, his mother is Cherokee and he is called ‘Laughing Rain.’ His parents live just beyond the Blue Ridge and were quite pleasant to us on our visit a fortnight ago. I like Laughing Rain very much, and we stayed in his village nearly a month.”

  Caleb’s mouth dropped. “You lived with Indians? But we hear such disturbing stories of these savages. Are they not dangerous?”