by Mark J Rose
It is blue. Matt nodded and watched her walk out the front door.
Matt finished eating in peaceful silence, cleaned up his dishes, and walked back to the hay barn. He saw Franklin and Thomas standing outside a ring, watching Jeb, the middle Taylor son, train a new horse. Thomas would tap Franklin on the shoulder intermittently and point, and both men would nod.
“Ready to go to town?” Matt called. He waved to Jeb, who was guiding the young stallion around the ring. “He’s a beauty,” Matt said to the young man.
“Homegrown,” Jeb called back proudly. He was six inches taller than the last time Matt was on the farm, and his voice was deeper. He looked and sounded like a man.
“Ready, gentlemen?” Matt repeated.
“I was enjoying watching this beautiful animal,” Franklin proclaimed.
“I don’t want to hold you two up,” Matt said. “You seemed more excited than ladies about your new clothes this morning.”
“Young fellow,” Thomas said, smiling. “We’ll see how eager you are the day your firstborn is married to the prettiest lady in Virginia.”
Matt smiled.
“I’ll get the wagon,” Thomas said.
Franklin waited until Thomas was out of earshot. “A real gentleman,” he said.
“Looks like you two hit it off,” Matt replied.
Franklin gave him a puzzled expression.
“It means you’ve become quick friends.”
“We’ve a lot in common.”
“I thought you had naught in common with Anglicans.”
“Harsh judgment of a grumpy old man,” Franklin admitted.
“Ya think?”
“Sometimes you’re very hard to understand,” Franklin declared.
Matt rolled his eyes. “What do you think about the farm?”
“I’ve always wondered how you were able to afford your thoroughbred,” Franklin said. “He looks as if he belongs in King George’s stables. I come here to find a whole farm filled with such animals. Do they realize what they have?”
“Their horses have to be better,” Matt explained. “They don’t keep slaves.”
“No slaves?” Franklin asked, surprised.
Matt motioned around at the farm. “See any?”
“The slave quarters are out back.”
“They use those shacks for seasonal labor from town.”
“A curious dynamic.”
“And another thing I find attractive about this family.”
Franklin laughed.
“What?” Matt asked.
“Her pretty blue eyes have nothing to do with slaves.”
“I’ll grant that she’s beautiful,” Matt replied. “But, you gotta admit that the lifestyle looks pretty good.”
“Maybe,” Franklin admitted. “They’re incredibly gracious people. They were up at sunrise to work this beautiful farm.”
“I told you.”
“I have one nagging question, then.”
Matt waited for the razz he knew was coming.
“Seeing how hard they work, how will you ever fit in?” The older man almost chuckled himself off his feet.
43
Swordsman
They rode the few miles to Richmond under the late-morning sun, protected by the canvas canopy of their square wooden wagon that was drawn by two brown thoroughbred mares. Matt sat silently behind Thomas and Franklin, happy just to eavesdrop on their conversation. It satisfied Matt to learn that Thomas could hold his own in a political discussion with Franklin, a man who would someday be placed among the greatest political thinkers in history. Matt hoped Thomas’s abilities would be more proof to Franklin that Matt’s motivation to join the Taylor family was well founded.
Henry Duncan’s store was in a grey-painted wood building with white shutters in the center of the Richmond business district. The clothier shared a single porch with a small shoemaker and a bookseller located on either side. Happy memories bombarded Matt as he looked up at the elaborately painted sign reading “Duncan’s Clothier” posted above an awning that jutted out over a large multipaned window that looked into the store.
Matt had come to know Henry Duncan while working on the Taylors’ horse farm during his first month in 1762 and had kept in touch with him through regular correspondence. Henry was Richmond’s most prominent fashion plate, its finest dancer and most skilled swordsman. To Matt he was also a friend and a mentor.
“Matthew Miller!” Henry Duncan exclaimed as Matt led Thomas and Franklin into Henry’s store. The man rushed to Matt and shook his hand vigorously. Henry was about three inches shorter than Matt, with light brown hair that was receding at his temples. Though Matt had never asked his age, Henry looked younger than Thomas and Franklin, who were hovering near their fifties.
“And this must be the esteemed Dr. Franklin,” Henry said, stepping past Matt to meet the older man.
Franklin reached out his hand to shake. “Mr. Duncan. I’ve heard so much about you it’s like we’ve already met.”
“All good, I hope,” Henry proclaimed.
“We often discuss your letters at our weekly dinners,” Franklin said. “I keenly remember that you are an aficionado of all things London.”
Henry nodded. “A wonderful city,” he said, and gave Franklin a bright smile. He turned to Thomas. “And how goes it with you, my friend?” he said with a sly grin. “Does it vex you to give your son away?”
“Absolutely not,” Thomas replied. He turned toward Franklin. “She’s a beautiful lady from a good family.”
Henry motioned for them to move into a tailoring area with two elevated platforms and a full-length mirror. There were four chairs around the perimeter for people to sit and observe when they weren’t being fitted. Henry handed them suits wrapped in coarse paper and pointed them to a dressing room. Matt’s suit fit almost perfectly based on the measurements he had sent and required only small adjustments, while Franklin, who had been overly stingy in the assessment of his own dimensions, had to spend some time while Henry let the waist out on his breeches. Once the clothier had worked his magic, though, Franklin looked handsome in his new suit. The Founding Father gazed at himself in the full-length mirror.
“Capital,” he proclaimed.
“Made of the finest cloth,” Henry replied.
Franklin glanced over at Matt, who was sitting in a chair dressed in his new clothing. “I’ll take care of this young man’s debt, Mr. Duncan. It’s worth the gold to finally see him out of those rags.”
Thomas, who was sitting next to Matt, waved his hand. “Cost isn’t their concern, Henry. It’s been a good year.”
“Are you certain, sir?” Franklin asked.
“Most honored,” Thomas replied.
Franklin bowed and then looked again into the mirror. “I don’t think I could’ve gotten a finer suit in London.” Henry beamed with pride.
The conversation turned from clothing as Henry made the last adjustments to Matt’s suit. “Mr. Duncan,” Franklin said, “I heard you know the sword.”
“I learned in England as a young man,” Henry replied with his eyes on Matt’s breeches. He cut a dangling thread, motioned that he was finished and signaled to Matt to step down from the platform.
“Might we see a demonstration of your skills?” Franklin asked.
Henry nodded and motioned toward the hallway that led to his studio. They changed out of their suits and Henry rewrapped them tightly. He locked the front door, turned the sign to “CLOSED,” and led them to his studio. This was where Matt practiced the minuet with Henry during one of his last visits to Richmond.
Henry walked to a rack and grabbed a sword. He stepped to a wool-padded figure at one end of the room and narrated while he demonstrated various attacks, each one ending in the sword making contact with the human-shaped dummy. Afterwards, he pulled blunt-edged practice swords from a shelf and worked first with Franklin and then with Thomas. Despite being a fan of sword fighting, Franklin had little experience, but it was obvious t
hat Thomas had some training.
“I learned as a young man,” Thomas explained proudly after one successful parry.
Matt had expected he’d be next to try the sword, but when his turn came, Henry said, “Why not demonstrate your fighting style? I remember that you’ve been practicing.”
“I could show a move or two,” Matt said, smiling. The three older men watched as Matt kicked off his shoes, removed his waistcoat, and undid a few buttons to loosen his breeches. They grew increasingly curious as Matt gathered props from around the studio. There were pieces of lumber stacked in the corner, so Matt grabbed a thick board and brought it over. “Do you care if this gets broken?” he asked. Henry shook his head.
Franklin looked on with great interest. Matt returned his grin with a satisfied smile, handed him the board, and waved Thomas over. “You too, Mr. Taylor,” Matt said. He showed them how to support the wood with straight arms, then walked over and pulled the head section off the man-shaped target Henry had been using. It was a ball on the end of a thick wooden dowel. He handed it to Henry. “Hold this with both hands and move it up and down like a man’s head.”
“How high?”
“Make him tall,” Matt said, “like Levi Payne.”
Thomas shot Matt a look of disapproval.
Matt waved him off. “You’re right.” He turned back to Henry. “A little taller than me.” Matt demonstrated a dodging motion with his own head. Once Henry had the height and motion correct, Matt pointed him to one corner of the room. Matt moved to the center to begin the poomsae pyongwon, a series of movements, punches, and kicks in tae kwon do that are used to give an acrobatic demonstration of fighting skill. His white cotton shirt made a sharp snap every time he executed a punch, making them seem even more powerful than they were.
When Matt completed the poomsae, he stepped within ten paces of Henry and then moved at him with a spinning roundhouse kick. His foot connected squarely with the padded target in Henry’s hand. Matt followed with another sidekick before Henry could drop the target, then spun around and connected again with an upward-angled sidekick. The head was torn from the pole and went flying into the wall. Matt turned to Franklin and Thomas.
“You don’t plan to attack us?” Franklin exclaimed, more than half serious.
“The board,” Matt said, motioning for them to get ready. Matt smiled as he watched them work together to brace themselves.
Franklin said, “I don’t know what to expect here, but—”
Matt shouted, “Ki yah!” and snapped the board with a perfect sidekick. Franklin’s piece flew from his hands and landed behind him and Thomas stared at the broken piece of wood he still held in both his hands, shocked. Matt had snapped it cleanly.
“You get a lot of power when your legs are aligned like that,” Henry observed.
Matt nodded. “It’s taken a lot of practice.”
“This is to confront Levi Payne?” Thomas asked tentatively.
“I’ll defend my family if I have to,” Matt replied.
Henry could see that Matt’s demonstration had shocked Thomas. “These Oriental fighting styles are impressive to watch,” he explained, “but they are mostly for defense.”
“Men don’t practice such skills never to use them,” Thomas declared.
“Swordplay is similar,” Henry explained. “The practice required to maintain the skill builds the control to use it only in defense. Ruffians haven’t the discipline to develop such skills.”
Thomas thought for a moment. “Can you teach my sons?” he asked.
Matt nodded. “Your daughter, too.” The words felt reckless as soon as they left his mouth.
Thomas stared back hard. “It would be shocking to see such violence from a lady.”
“Ladies should be able to protect themselves just as well as men,” Matt said.
“I regret putting this in your head,” Thomas replied.
44
Permission
Matt felt like Thomas was trying to look into his soul as they gathered themselves to leave Henry’s store and pick Will up for lunch. The older man scrutinized him as Matt slipped on his shoes and pulled his waistcoat back over his tunic. When Matt was dressed, they moved in unison out the front door with their large parcels while saying goodbye to Henry.
Matt’s vision flashed as they drove through the streets of Richmond. Would he meet Levi Payne in the street today? He scanned the houses and businesses that lined the thoroughfare. He’d been here before, but not in his dreams. There were one or two horses within sight. There aren’t enough. Nothing looked like the future he’d dreamed.
“Where’s Will?” Matt asked, trying to break out of the trance that was trying to engulf him.
“His room is rented until his marriage,” Thomas replied. “We’ll find him there.”
**********
It was a ten-minute ride to Will’s apartment. He was waiting on a porch bench. “Where’s everyone been?” he shouted, walking out to the wagon. “It’s been an eternity.”
“Mr. Miller was demonstrating his fighting skills,” Thomas said as he contemplated Matt yet again.
“Kicking and such!” Will exclaimed. “Is this Dr. Franklin?” He stuck his hand out before the man could jump from the wagon. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Matt smiled and waved.
“My friend,” Will said, shaking Matt’s hand.
Matt gave him a warm smile. “We got our wedding clothing,” Matt said. “We’ll certainly look more handsome than the groom.”
“I hardly believe you can beat this,” Will said, pointing to his face.
“Get in,” his father said, “before we ride off and leave you to eat with your looking glass.”
They stopped at the King’s Tavern to discuss “official wedding business,” which included a jovial discussion of clothing, food, and ladies. Matt hadn’t seen Franklin smile as much as he did sitting there with the two Taylor men. The man seemed to be enjoying Southern society, Anglicans and all.
They dropped Will at his apartment after lunch and drove back to the Taylor farm. Immediately after they arrived, Thomas took Franklin out for a ride in the countryside on two young mares Matt had never seen before. Matt found Grace and they headed in the opposite direction on her stallion, Silver Star, and Thunder. Scout went along, much to the dismay of Duke, who was left back at the farm, tied with a leash. The puppy barked until they were out of sight.
When they returned, the ladies cooked dinner and then the whole family, including Thomas’s brother David and his wife, Faith, ate behind the house on their large wooden banquet table. They finished the night with a Bible reading and prayers, and then David broke out the playing cards. Franklin was a wholehearted participant in every activity. When darkness finally came, everyone retired to their rooms. Franklin had Will’s room, while Matt looked forward to spending the night in the barn.
“Can I walk you over, Mr. Miller?” Thomas said. He immediately saw the look of discomfort on Matt’s face. “’Tis nothing bad.”
“Of course,” Matt replied.
As soon as they stepped outside and closed the door, Thomas said, “I wish to discuss my daughter.” Scout traipsed behind them, crossing in and out of the shadows that formed as the lantern swung slowly in Thomas’s hand.
“Sure,” Matt replied simply.
Thomas stayed silent until they were comfortably sitting in the hay barn on the bench that was Matt’s bed. Matt could see Thomas’s face clearly in the lantern light. “I’ll not say I’m delighted with this clandestine pact you’ve made with my daughter,” Thomas said.
“I meant no disrespect, sir,” Matt replied. “I’ve worked this last year to be worthy of your family.”
“I had a long conversation with Dr. Franklin today. He had many favorable things to say, aside from the fact that you’ve much to learn.”
“I’ve heard him say that of almost everyone,” Matt replied. It was true.
“He claims you have a successful and growi
ng business.”
Matt nodded. “It should be operating and growing itself soon.”
“Are you ready to ask for the hand of my daughter?”
“I don’t make that kind of money yet,” Matt replied. He motioned around the barn to emphasize his point.
“My daughter is too stubborn to consider another man. Either you make a formal commitment, or I shall forbid you to have contact with her.”
“Are you giving me permission to marry your daughter?”
“You have my permission to ask for her hand, yes.”
Adrenaline coursed through Matt’s body, and he set his suddenly shaking hands down on the bench. He had looked forward to this moment for almost a year, but now that it had come, all he could think of was the challenge that lay ahead.
“You don’t seem delighted,” Thomas said.
“It’s faster than I preferred.”
“I’d like to announce your betrothal on Saturday.”
“That soon?” Matt said, surprised. He felt like someone just told him he’d won the lottery even though he didn’t remember buying a ticket. He was both suspicious and speechless.
“For a man of letters, you’re surprisingly slow to understand.”
“I still have a business to build,” Matt said soberly.
Thomas shrugged. “We would intend for a year betrothal with a wedding after harvest.”
“Does Grace know?”
“It’s your responsibility to approach Grace.”
“What’s changed?”
“You’ve come back a singular man, and you’ve made influential friends.”
“I was in the right place at the right time, I think,” Matt said, laughing.
“You’ve an angel guarding you,” Thomas said. “I know that much to be true.”
“I wish he’d make things a little easier, then,” Matt replied.
“A man’s life is only hard work. It’s taken me most of my life to come to terms with that. It made it easier for me to hear it from someone older, so there you have it.”
