A Lady to Lead (Sisters of the Revolution Book 2)

by Audrey Glenn

  Euphemia clapped with excitement. “We should make a syllabub. I love syllabub above all things!”

  “That might be very difficult, Euphemia,” Jane pointed out. “A syllabub must be consumed just when it is made, and one could not prepare very many at once.”

  “Gooseberry tarts!” The words burst from Helen’s mouth. “They were always very popular and sold for a great deal.” Happy memories flooded her mind. She hadn’t fully appreciated how wonderful her life had been until her parents died and everything changed.

  Patience frowned. “Gooseberries aren’t in season.”

  “We can use gooseberry preserves,” Helen countered. Gooseberry tarts would certainly prove just as profitable to sell in Philadelphia as they had at Heartcomb.

  “I thought we might serve gingerbread,” Jane said. “It’s easy to cut and stays fresh for several days when wrapped.”

  “We dined on gooseberry tart at the governor’s house this summer,” Helen pointed out. “And Mrs. Morley is very fashionable and elite.”

  Jane nodded, though the set to her lips made her appear less than convinced.

  “It’s settled then,” Helen announced. “I’ll draw up a plan for the entire scheme, and we’ll discuss it at our next meeting. This meeting is adjourned.”

  After visiting a while, the sisters took their leave. The day was crisp and clear, and the last of the autumn leaves provided a lovely frame for the beautiful red-brick city.

  Helen slid her arm through her sister’s. “I love this city in the fall!”

  “Well, sister dear, were you pleased with the meeting?” Cassandra asked.

  “Yes, I think it went very well. That young girl we are to help — that could have easily been you and me.”

  “Thank heaven for our uncle!” Cassandra paused to wave to one of David’s business associates across the street. As they neared their apartment in the center of town, Pine Street grew more crowded with people and horses.

  “I can’t wait to make the gooseberry tarts. It will feel like home again!” Helen’s mouth watered. She could almost taste the tart berries.

  “Are you certain you know how to make them? As I recall, we didn’t really do much more than watch Cook prepare the tarts.”

  “I remember every detail,” Helen insisted. “And I’ve Mama’s household book to refer to.”

  “Receipts are often more difficult to execute than to read,” Cassandra pointed out. “Perhaps Peggy knows how to make them.”

  Helen patted her sister’s hand. “I’m certain I can manage, but if I can’t, I’ll ask our cook for assistance.” Peggy was expert at everything in the kitchen. She surely had something excellent planned for David’s birthday dinner. Helen suddenly recalled the guest list. “Why didn’t you tell me Captain Carter was coming for dinner?”

  Cassandra chuckled. “Perhaps I didn’t wish to hear you complain of it for days!”

  “I wouldn’t have,” Helen protested. “It’s just that he’s extremely disagreeable. Do you not recall how rude he was to me at your wedding? First, he ignored me, then he laid hands upon my person —”

  “To try to save your life, if I remember,” her sister interjected.

  “ — refused to laugh about the whole thing, and treated me like a spectacle at a village fair,” Helen finished.

  Cassandra huffed. “That was nearly three years ago! Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him and try to be civil?”

  “I always attempt to make conversation with him every time his company is forced upon me. The last time I saw him I asked him about his new ship, and he answered in three words. Then he turned to David and spoke at length of the Pennsylvania silk industry.”

  “An excessively boring discussion,” Cassandra had to own. “He may be a dull man, but he’s not a bad one. Please be patient with him, for David’s sake — he seems to genuinely like Captain Carter.”

  Helen didn’t want to promise too much with respect to the captain, so she changed the subject. “I hope I’ll have sufficient time to change my gown.”

  “What a kind idea — that will please David.”

  Helen grinned. “I doubt he’ll be pleased when he sees me in my old gray mourning dress.”

  “Helen, you mustn’t!” Cassandra protested. “Wear that nice pink silk gown David bought you.”

  “It would probably be churlish of me not to,” Helen conceded, “though it will be wasted on Captain Carter.”

  This dinner must be endured, but as early as she could politely manage, she would escape to her bedroom and begin working on the plan for the society.

  Nathaniel Carter groaned and threw a crumpled note across the room. This wasn’t the news he needed today.

  “Hold!”

  Nathaniel looked up to see David Beaufort, one of his most important investors, standing in the doorway.

  “I surrender!” David scooped the paper up from the floor and tossed it back at Nathaniel. David was, as always, impeccably dressed in a blue coat he probably considered plain, though it was toggled and braided, and his waistcoat was covered in embroidery.

  Nathaniel caught the ball of paper easily and tried to smooth it out before tossing it down on the desk. “Did you hear?” He waved to the paper. “He had that fool son of his deliver a letter personally.” He didn’t attempt to hide his contempt, and David’s grimace concurred. Winthrop Morley was one of the most insufferable men he’d ever met. David’s father was a marquess — far above a provincial governor — and he’d never asked Nathaniel to bow and scrape. Winthrop was content to throw his father’s name around and let better men do all the hard work.

  David’s eyes raked over the page on Nathaniel’s desk. “I heard rumors in the coffee room this morning. Governor Morley can’t possibly stop all contraband tea from coming into Philadelphia.”

  “He intends to,” Nathaniel growled. “This newfound loyalty he’s mustered to king and country is surprising. He’s been turning a blind eye to smuggling for the last decade.”

  David snorted. “I hear the custom houses have promised the governor a cut of all the East India Company tea sold at market. By keeping smuggled tea out, he ensures high demand for the legal variety.”

  Nathaniel slapped his desk. “I knew there was something in it for him!”

  David helped himself to the chair in front of Nathaniel’s desk, having learned long since that Nathaniel had no inclination for social niceties. Nathaniel’s office, a tiny room at the back of his warehouse, would be considered snug by most. To a man who had lived aboard ships his entire life the room seemed nearly palatial, possessing a desk, two chairs, a large framed map of the known world, and a lantern for working late nights.

  “When that load of madeira sells you must purchase yourself better chairs with the profits.” David wrinkled his nose in distaste as he examined the unornamented wooden arms of his seat.

  Nathaniel didn’t mind hard chairs. He’d never been softened by the luxuries David insisted on. “The Raleigh departed only a month ago. We’ll not see her return before next year, and by that time, I may need the profit to recover my losses from this tea catastrophe.” Nathaniel sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, which really wasn’t very comfortable, if he was honest with himself.

  “What do you mean to do?”

  “I must bring the tea to market despite the governor’s interference.” Nathaniel rubbed his forehead.

  “You must not involve yourself in anything unlawful,” David admonished. “Smugglers are subject to a hefty fine, not to mention the loss of all the smuggled goods.”

  Nathaniel shot David a hard look. “Nine out of every ten cases of tea in this city have been brought in unlawfully. You’ve had no problem with my smuggling before now.”

  David shrugged. “That was before the governor decided he cared! Smuggling didn’t really seem like a crime before. You’ll have to find something else to do with it.”

  “There’s nothing else to do with it. The Southern colonies will no
t purchase what they deem ‘inferior’ Dutch tea. Boston and New York already have established supply lines, and their markets cannot easily bear more.”

  “Store it in New Jersey?” David suggested.

  “Too expensive, and everyone will think of that. In a month or two, when all the merchants in this town grow desperate enough, each will try to smuggle it in at once and the market will be flooded with tea. If we want to turn a profit, or just avoid a total loss, we must act now.”

  “You could just pay the taxes.”

  “We’d record a loss.” Nathaniel groaned and placed his head in his hands.

  David got to his feet. “Well, I’ve trusted you thus far, and you have amply repaid me. Are you changing before dinner?”

  Nathaniel looked up. “About that — I think it would be best if I stayed here and worked on a plan to bring the tea in without interference.”

  “I don’t suppose every merchant in Philadelphia will determine how to overtake you if you allow yourself one afternoon to celebrate the birthday of your greatest investor!” David retorted.

  Nathaniel wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to offend such an important financial backer, but he did not relish spending an afternoon in awkward and forced conversation. David’s wife was pleasant enough, but his sister-in-law was a termagant.

  He couldn’t fathom why Helen seemed to dislike him so much; he’d been nothing but courteous to her each time they met. He’d even saved her life once by thumping her on the back when she was choking on a piece of cake. Lately he’d taken to trying to speak to her as little as possible so as not to draw her ire.

  Even knowing he probably wasn’t escaping the dinner, Nathaniel made one final attempt. “I’m sure you could celebrate adequately without me.”

  “A single man like yourself should jump at the chance to dine with a beautiful young lady.”

  A suspicion crossed Nathaniel’s mind. “You’re not attempting to foist her off on me, are you?”

  David appeared to consider the idea seriously. “It would save me a great deal in housing and feeding her, not to mention her clothing. Excellent idea.”

  “I’ve no need of a wife,” Nathaniel insisted. “My time is spent on my work.”

  “A wife could make your life more comfortable.”

  “I can’t see how!” Nathaniel protested. “I’ve everything I need without one. I eat my dinner at the tavern; I pay a woman to launder my clothing. I mend my own tack, and I don’t entertain guests. A wife would be far more costly than what I would get in return.”

  “That’s one way to see things,” David said solemnly, though there was laughter in his eyes. “No need to worry; I’m not ready to throw my sister-in-law away on just anyone. I have a whole series of tests planned for any likely candidates.” David rubbed his hands together, evidently relishing the prospect.

  While he was speaking, Nathaniel slid into his black coat, plain compared to David’s.

  “I gather you won’t change your clothing. Very well, follow me to my home.”

  They stepped out of the warehouse, David waiting so Nathaniel could lock the door behind him. He would have to find another place to store the contraband tea, as this location was the first place the governor would search.

  Door secured, the two men set out. Nathaniel liked the red-bricked city — especially the smooth, cobbled roads. They made carrying cargo from the docks to the warehouse much easier.

  David wrinkled his nose distastefully. “I’ll never grow accustomed to this odor,” he complained. The fish market was winding down for the day, but the smell lingered in the air.

  “They didn’t have odors in England, of course,” Nathaniel teased.

  “I am certain they must have, but I was never forced to endure them!”

  David lived only a few streets away, near the Pennsylvania State House. The men entered the brick row building and bypassed the lawyer’s office to the left, now dark, opting for the narrow stairs on the right.

  “Wait in there while I go find my wife,” David said, motioning to the drawing room.

  Nathaniel dutifully entered the room and nearly turned around to walk out again. Helen Crofton was standing at the fireplace, back turned to him.

  Nathaniel considered where he might go. Back to stand in the antechamber? He was not familiar with the rest of the apartment.

  Helen didn’t bother to hide her disappointment when she turned and caught sight of him. She dipped into the barest of curtsies. “Do you wish to sit?”

  “Thank you.” Nathaniel settled in a corner chair he’d not seen on previous visits. Helen settled onto the couch and arranged her skirt. Every time he saw her, he was reminded that she was very pretty — not that it held any weight with him. Had the pink silk of her gown been made in Pennsylvania? It was very becoming. Perhaps there was something to American silk after all.

  They sat in silence for some minutes, long enough that it became amusing to Nathaniel to imagine who would speak first.

  “Do you care to explain your smile, Captain?”

  “I’m not currently the captain of a vessel,” he corrected.

  She glanced at the mantel clock. “I thought once a captain, always a captain,” she retorted.

  He shook his head but didn’t elaborate. Helen raised her eyebrows. Did she expect him to raise another topic of conversation? He wasn’t sure what courtesy demanded.

  “Captain Carter! Thank you for coming to celebrate my husband’s birthday.” Nathaniel was relieved by Cassandra’s rescue. At least someone was happy to see him.

  “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He bowed over her hand. She wore a blue silk only a few shades darker than the color of the living room walls. He supposed David favored the color.

  David stepped into the room after her. “Ah! Do you like my new chair? It’s a Chippendale.”

  Nathaniel hadn’t noticed anything special about it. “Very nice.”

  “I believe dinner is laid out if you care to follow me?” David had changed into a white coat embroidered with a gold scroll pattern and a very expensive-looking wig. Maybe Nathaniel should have changed his coat.

  He wondered if he ought to offer Helen his arm, but she stepped past him without glancing his way, so he was left to trail after her. Her scent wafted in the air as they stepped down the corridor to the dining room; Nathaniel found the lemony smell very appropriate for her sour disposition.

  Nathaniel found he could do great service to the meal laid before him despite the fact that he’d tried to get out of attending. The family kept an excellent cook. David’s valet, Westing, hovered in the corner watching for any chance to be of service to the family.

  Cassandra attempted to make conversation with Nathaniel by inquiring about his three merchant ships.

  Helen tried to seem concerned. “Any chance of leaving on a prolonged voyage?” David and Cassandra exchanged a look.

  “Now that I own three ships, I must coordinate the business of all, and I can’t do that separated from the post for months at a time.” He could remain civil despite Helen’s obvious rudeness.

  Cassandra spoke before Helen could. “Do you miss sailing?”

  Nathaniel considered the question. “I miss the order of my ship, and always knowing exactly what I must do next. I don’t miss the hard tack. This is far more to my taste.” He held up a fresh roll. Westing seemed to take it as a sign he wanted more bread and rushed to offer more.

  “How was the Young Society Ladies Meeting?” David inquired, turning to Helen.

  “Philadelphia Young Ladies Charitable Society,” Helen corrected. “It was excellent!” We’ve agreed to buy out the indenture of a young lady who is in a very desperate circumstance.”

  “I suppose that means I should expect to be asked to make a donation?”

  “No!” Helen protested. “We young ladies mean to earn all the money ourselves, for it is certainly not just gentlemen who can find success in business.”

  “We mean to sell goo
seberry tarts at the city market,” Cassandra explained. “Helen is in charge of the entire scheme. She was elected president today!”

  David approved. “Excellent! Gooseberries are very fashionable.”

  “Just what I said!” Helen beamed at David.

  “An indenture is quite dear,” Nathaniel could not help saying. He wasn’t in the habit of purchasing desserts, but they couldn’t be very expensive. He started to do some calculations in his mind. “You must mean to sell a great quantity of pies.”

  “Tarts,” Helen corrected stiffly. “I’ve not precisely calculated how many we must sell, but I’m certain we can manage it. Our friends and families will buy many tarts, and the market is always crowded.”

  “A market stall can be very expensive to rent,” Nathaniel pointed out.

  Helen shrugged. “We’ll have to raise the money for the stall somehow.”

  He persisted. “Where will you get the gooseberries? I don’t know much about fruits, but I can’t imagine they are in season.”

  “We’ll use preserves. I thank you for your help, but I’m certain we’re capable of managing everything without assistance.”

  Why was she so averse to a bit of advice from someone far more experienced in business matters? Nathaniel thrived on sound advice when he was starting out.

  “You’ll need to learn from someone,” David interjected. “Young ladies aren’t exactly in the habit of running a business. Perhaps you should ask for donations.”

  Nathaniel agreed. “I will pledge five pence to you,” he offered.

  “I should not take a ha’penny off you!” Helen clenched her fork.

  Nathaniel was taken aback. He’d only been trying to help.

  “I attended a meeting today,” David interjected. “Of a private organization that wants to free the colonies from unfair taxation.”

  Helen scoffed. “We all know you speak of the Sons of Liberty!”

  David narrowed his eyes. “This private organization means to host an assembly to determine what to do about the Tea Act which Parliament saw fit to pass.”