CHAPTER 11
Matthew was amused at the stunned expressions on his children’s faces as they entered the Philadelphia neighborhood of Society Hill.
Mary leaned toward him. “Papa, there are even more elegant houses here than there are in Alexandria.”
“’Tis an affluent area, dear. But not all parts of the city are as fine as this.”
Mark straightened his steenkirk. “Did you live near here, Papa?”
“No. My family’s home was several blocks north, but it was sold and belongs to another family now.”
Mary put her arm through his. “Did you know Grandmamma’s cousin Susan, the lady whose home we are visiting?”
“’Tis Mrs. Brown to the two of you. And no, I never met the Browns. Your grandparents are more formal people than you are used to. Remember your table manners. I know I can trust you to be on your best behavior.”
“We will,” Mary said. “’Tis a good thing I have those new gowns. Mama was wise to prepare me for such a fashionable place.”
“Remember what I said on the ride here, children. ’Twould be best if you refer to your mama as Heather. They know I remarried, but they still think of their daughter, Elizabeth, as your mother. We wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings, right? And another thing, and this is important.”
“What.” Mary leaned back to study his face.
“Heather and I met ... at the Duncans’. Your grandparents do not need to know that Heather was an indentured servant or that we met and married on the same day.”
Mary’s laughter was anything but ladylike. “Papa, I think I know better than to bring that subject up. But you.” She turned to her brother. “You best heed what Papa’s saying.”
“Yes, sir.”
Matthew pulled the carriage up to a large Georgian house on Cypress Street. “This is it. Now, remember, be very respectful to the Browns, the Moores, and anyone else you meet.”
Mary nodded. “We will.”
Mary’s straw hat slipped off her head when she tipped it back to take in the three-story home. Matthew placed it back on her head and smiled. “I know you will have a wonderful time.” They were good children, but this would be a unique experience for everyone.
A well-dressed doorman met them, bowed, and led them down a grand central hall to an arched doorway that led into a large square parlor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee permeated the room.
Louisa, Elizabeth’s mother, sat beautifully dressed and coifed in an ivory damask wingback chair.
Across from her sat an aristocratic gentleman who appeared to be about Matthew’s age. The gentleman stood and bowed.
Louisa smiled. “Matthew.” She stood, curtsied, and walked over to him, studying the youngsters at his side with a reserved smile. “So these are Mary and Mark. We have looked forward to your arrival. Your grandpapa is away right now but will return later.”
Matthew glanced at his children and puffed with pride. He observed his former mother-in-law. “’Tis good to see you again, Louisa.” The woman was just as regal as he remembered.
She stepped back and focused on him. “And you, Matthew. Allow me to introduce you to Mr. John Hancock, the nephew of Thomas and Lydia Hancock, some very old friends of ours from Boston.” She turned to her guest. “John, this is my late daughter’s husband, Matthew Stewart, and my grandchildren, Mary and Mark. The children are visiting us from Virginia for the summer.”
Matthew held out his hand to Louisa’s guest. The man gripped his warmly. “’Tis an honor to meet you, sir.”
Mark bowed, and Mary curtsied.
Mr. Hancock smiled warmly. “How delightful for all of you.”
A butler entered the room carrying a sterling silver tray complete with coffee essentials and tea cakes.
Louisa waved toward the seating area, and the children sat on an ivory settee. Matthew took a nearby chair. So far, Mary and Mark had behaved admirably. His former mother-in-law was just as he remembered, elegant and formal. The children would certainly have a very different summer.
The children were captivated by their grandmother. Louisa demonstrated an artful precision as she poured them each coffee and passed a silver plate with some lemon tarts. The ritual reminded him of a musical conductor at a concert.
When she sat again, she addressed them all. “Mr. Hancock took time from his busy schedule to stop and visit us. He has been elected as President of the Continental Congress currently in session here in Philadelphia.”
Matthew smiled. ’Twas good to know the Moores were on the right side of the issue. He had heard Hancock was a man of great wealth, but he seemed to be quite amiable and not the least bit condescending. Matthew had understood Peyton Randolph was serving as President of the Continental Congress. He had not learned of the change. “And what of Mr. Randolph?”
Mr. Hancock nodded. “Your confusion is understandable. Mr. Randolph stepped down and has returned to Williamsburg under the protection of the militia. The commander of British forces has been issued blank warrants for his and other rebel leaders’ execution.”
Matthew looked at his children and the fear that now etched their faces. Here only thirty minutes, and he was already gathering valuable information about those who supported the Patriot cause. Oh, that the rest of his time in Philadelphia would prove as fruitful amongst the opposition.
They spent the next half hour discussing the work of the Congress and Mr. Hancock’s suggestions for the young people’s activities while they were in the city. When Mr. Hancock left, Louisa rang a bell, and a woman hurried into the room. Louisa addressed Mary and Mark. “Children, you may be excused. The housekeeper will show you to your rooms and help you unpack.”
Mary and Mark stood and were following the housekeeper when Louisa addressed him. “Matthew, I assume you will be staying with us tonight. What are your plans?”
Mary and Mark’s heads swiveled to hear his response.
“I had planned to get a room at the Davis Inn on Chestnut Street.”
“Nonsense. The Browns are gone until Friday, but I know I can speak for them. You are welcome to stay here while you are in town. It would be good for the children to have you around while they become more acquainted with us.”
“That is very gracious of you.” He had hoped she would offer to let him stay for the sake of the children. A day or two should be enough; then he would go to the Davis Inn.
Louisa issued instructions on what time to appear for supper before the three of them were escorted upstairs to their rooms.
Mark rubbed his hand along the polished curved banister and whispered, “I’m glad you are staying, Papa.”
“As am I.”
Matthew, Mark, and Mary entered the dining room. The children’s eyes grew large as they took in the massive table with six pieces of sterling flatware at each setting. The numerous silver candlesticks on the table and sideboard were striking and illuminated the large room. His children looked at him in awe. How could he have forgotten the way Elizabeth was raised? He should have done more to prepare them for the opulence they would see. From what he remembered, the Moores’ home in Boston was of an equal status.
John and Louisa Moore entered the room, both elegantly dressed. Louisa introduced the children to their grandfather. John Moore’s hair had greyed since Matthew had last seen him, but the tall man’s jovial nature was still evident. John went out of his way to make them all feel welcome, enumerating the many places he wanted to show them in Philadelphia.
Servants entered the dining room with numerous trays and served a sumptuous meal of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and roasted vegetables, all on silver trays and dishes. The children would certainly be eating well while here. When Matthew picked up his fork, he noticed the children looking at the silverware in confusion. He cleared his throat, lifted the proper utensil, and waited until they’d followed suit. They caught his cues for the rest of the meal.
After everyone was finished, Louisa placed her napkin on the table, signaling the en
d of the meal.
“An invitation arrived today, John, for an assembly this Friday to be given in honor of some of the delegates. I suppose we were included because of our connections in Boston. Shall we accept?”
“Yes, my dear, we should probably attend.”
She turned toward Matthew. “Be assured that the children will be well cared for whenever we are occupied elsewhere.”
“That was never in doubt. I expect to leave Friday morning.”
John Moore clapped his hands together. “Then we must make the most of tomorrow. Perhaps a visit to Carpenter’s Hall.”
Matthew motioned toward his children. “I had hoped to take Mark and Mary to Christ Church where my parents are buried. Perhaps we could walk there in the morning and enjoy an excursion to Carpenter’s Hall in the afternoon.”
“A fine plan.”
The next morning, Matthew observed his children as they walked north on 3rd Street toward Christ Church. “I’m proud of the way you both have behaved around your grandparents, very grown up and polite.”
Mary said, “You were not exaggerating when you said that our grandmamma was formal. So much silverware for a meal. How will we ever know which piece to use?”
Mark stopped to examine a set of pearl-handled knives in a shop window. “Who cares which fork or spoon we use as long as we get the food in our mouths?”
Matthew chuckled. “I suggest you watch your grandparents and use whichever piece they use.”
Mark turned from the window and pointed to a spire down Church Street. “That is the tallest building I have ever seen.”
“That, son, is Christ Church. If we have time, we can stop there after we visit the graveyard.”
Mary looked amazed. “Is that where your parents’ graves are?”
“No. but they are not far. Years ago, when the churchyard was filled, Christ Church bought acreage at the corner of 5th and Arch Streets.”
Mark tugged on his sleeve. “We want to be sure to get back to Cypress Street in time for Grandpapa to take us to Carpenter’s Hall.”
“We will.”
They reached the graveyard and wandered amongst the graves until they reached the Stewart headstones. Grass and weeds had grown up around them.
Matthew bent down and pulled them away until only grass remained. Then he stood silently for a couple of moments before turning to the children. “I say we visit Christ Church.”
A few moments later as they entered the large Georgian structure, Mary whispered, “What a grand and beautiful church. It makes ours looks so humble.”
Matthew placed his hand on her shoulder. “Both glorify God, my dear. ’Tis not the building but the people who are the church.”
There were others in the sanctuary, a couple standing to the side of the pulpit and a young man examining the baptismal font.
The Stewarts explored the church for a few minutes before they headed outside. Mark pointed to a bas-relief on the outside of the church. “Who is that?”
Matthew studied it for a moment. “His Majesty King George II.”
“Maybe there are more on the other side.” Mark turned and ran and nearly collided with a man in clerical garb. The minister reached out and stopped him before he tumbled into the lady walking beside him.
Mark’s eyes were wide, his face crimson. “I apologize, sir, ma’am. Please forgive me.”
The minister laughed. “Absolution granted.” The lady smiled and patted Mark on the shoulder.
Matthew and Mary came alongside of Mark. “Please excuse us.” He pointed in the direction of the newer graveyard. “We are visiting Philadelphia, and I wanted to show my children my parents’ gravesite. We stopped to see the church while we were here.”
“Welcome to Philadelphia and Christ Church. I’m Reverend William White, and this is my wife, Mary.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” The man was younger than he. “I’m Matthew Stewart, and these are my children, Mary and Mark.”
Mary curtsied and Mark nodded.
Just then, the young man who had been studying the font approached the minister.
Mrs. White turned toward the children. “Where are you from?”
“Virginia. We are visiting with our grandparents for the summer.”
“How delightful.” She looked at Matthew. “I also come from Virginia. Are you in town for the Congress? We have met many Virginians who have arrived for it.”
The Reverend reached out to the young man approaching him. “Let me introduce our friend, Patrick O’Brian. He is a local cabinetmaker. I just commissioned him to build a desk for my office. Patrick, these are the Stewarts of Virginia.”
The young man nodded. “More visitors from Virginia associated with the good work of the Congress? Just yesterday, I met a Mr. Thomas Nelson and a Mr. Benjamin Harrison from Virginia. I am pleased to make your acquaintance sir, miss. I hope you are enjoying our fine city.”
Matthew extended his hand. “We are. We were about to return to the Browns’ home, where we are expected.”
Mrs. White smiled. “We hope to see you again, perhaps in church.”
“Good day.” The Stewarts turned and made their way back to Cypress Street.
It wasn’t until Friday after he’d checked in at the Davis Inn that Matthew had an opportunity to call at the Ferguson home on Chestnut Street. Since the family was away for the day, he left a note asking Henry to contact him.
Henry responded within hours and suggested they meet at City Tavern on Saturday. City Tavern had been built since Matthew was last in Philadelphia, but he’d heard it was a gathering spot for local businessmen and gentry to carry on business and eat. No wonder Henry would be comfortable here. Matthew entered the tavern from Second Street and looked down the long hallway. Henry said he would be in the dining room past the coffee room. When Matthew entered, Henry stood and greeted him. His friend had not changed much in the five years since they’d last met. At nearly six feet, Henry carried himself well, and his medium brown hair showed no traces of grey. Henry had selected a table in a corner of the room for their meal. Only three other tables had patrons, so they enjoyed some privacy. They ordered a venison stew and chatted about their lives and the different directions each had taken over the years. It would have been enjoyable under normal circumstances, but the sealed packet Matthew carried was never far from his mind. He needed to prudently turn the conversation to recent events and deliver the packet.
Henry finished the tankard of ale and set it down. “When Mother heard that you were in town, she asked if you might join us for dinner tomorrow. You will miss Frederick as he is in New York on Father’s business, but Barbara will be there. She is married now to an officer in the Regulars.” Henry leaned back and studied him through narrowed eyes.
Matthew laughed to himself. An opportunity had been presented, but he sensed Henry was also gauging his political leanings. “Good for Barbara. I would be delighted to join you and your family for dinner. These are troublesome times, with so many friends and neighbors at odds with each other. At the same time, Philadelphia is an interesting place to be with the Second Continental Congress meeting here.”
“Philadelphia is becoming a less than friendly place for those with loyalties to the Crown.”
Matthew took a deep breath. They were dancing around each other, and it was his move. “Having a British Army officer in the family must prove challenging in some circles.”
“The Fergusons are not all in accord on recent events.” Henry leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I have difficulty recognizing the authority of Parliament over our elected assemblies. Their Coercive Acts have made it impossible for moderates in the colonies to support Parliament.”
Matthew nodded. “We agree.” He pulled the packet from the inside of his jacket. “Which is why I was tasked to deliver this to you by some like-minded individuals.” What would be next? Stephens’ earlier remark suggested he would have another assignment during his next trip to Philadelphia to pick up the children.
Henry’s eyes widened but only briefly as he slipped the packet into his jacket.
“Still want me to join your family for dinner tomorrow?”
“More than ever.” There was a silent understanding in his smile.
The following afternoon, Matthew arrived at the Fergusons’ Locust Street home. He was ushered into a parlor, where Henry’s sister Barbara greeted him. Barbara was as lovely as he remembered. Henry and his parents joined them a few minutes later.
The house was elegant and tastefully furnished, and Henry’s family acted genuinely pleased to see him. For a half hour, they shared memories and some of the changes in their lives that had occurred during the previous five years.
Barbara’s voice was shrill and nervous. “I’m sorry you cannot meet my husband this visit. He is a captain in the Regulars and is currently near Boston. He’s very well thought of by General Howe. Perhaps you will enjoy his acquaintance the next time you call.”
He had forgotten how Barbara was so full of herself. “I would be honored.”
When a liveried servant entered and announced dinner, they adjourned to the dining room. Matthew was seated across from Henry and next to Barbara.
Barbara took a sip of her claret and leaned in toward him. “Henry tells me that you remarried several years ago. I remember how devastated the Moores were when Elizabeth passed away. ’Tis good that you have someone to care for your children. Are you still on your Virginia farm or have you returned to city life?”
“Our family is still at our farm and ordinary.”
“Oh, a farmer and in trade. How interesting. I suppose Henry told you he has been associating with the rebels. ’Tis such an embarrassment for my husband and the family.”
Matthew smiled. How was he to respond to that kind of comment? He took a bite of the aspic and was given a reprieve when Mrs. Ferguson asked Barbara a question which transferred her attention to her mother.
The easygoing exchange around the table while they dined on roast beef came to an abrupt end upon the arrival of a military messenger asking for Barbara. She left the room, and Matthew focused on Henry.
A Heart for Freedom: He longs for freedom, but won’t risk the lives of those he loves. Page 8
