by Kate Dolan
“Oh, my heavens!” Her mother fell back into the room. “The menu. However will we plan it in time? And we’ve no housekeeper yet. Oh, the menu, and stockings and—next week, did you say?”
“Next week,” Carter answered firmly. “We’ve no idea how long the guests may be staying at Hanset.”
“Oh. Oh, my heavens.”
“Go see to your stockings, Mother. And then you’d better have a rest,” Edwina suggested cheerfully.
“Yes, of course. Oh, my heavens. Next week.”
Caroline put down her needlework and rubbed her eyes. The frenzy of sewing had continued without interruption for days, starting right after the news of the arrival of the elegant guests at Hanset. There would be dinners, perhaps even a dance, and the ladies at Hill Crest had not had time or money to rework their clothing until very recently. So, every minute of daylight was put to use with a needle.
The light had just about vanished now, though, and she could put down her work with good conscience. She had darned so many holes that, when she closed her eyes, the image of frayed fabric appeared in her mind.
Georgiana and Edwina had ceased their work some minutes earlier; only Johanna still squinted determinedly at a piece of lace for a sleeve. For the last half-hour, she and Georgiana had speculated about the latest changes in fashion, hoping to incorporate the most recent trend into their reworked gowns.
Caroline suddenly realized she did not want to hear one more word on the topic of clothing until at least the next day. She looked at Edwina, who slouched, as much as her loosened stays would allow, back on her seat.
“I rather think the sleeves will have a bit more fullness to them now,” Edwina speculated thoughtfully.
“Et tu, Brute?” Caroline mumbled under her breath. “I’m going to have a word with Father before supper,” she announced as she stood and moved toward the door to the main room, where her father read in solitude. She nearly sighed as she thought of her proposed conversation. It was a subject she feared to raise, yet she feared even more to leave it unaddressed.
“Father?” she began softly as she shut the door behind her. “Might I speak with you for a moment?”
Her father looked up with an expression of annoyance, but the creases in his face soon melted into a smile. “Of course, Caroline.” He reached over to pat the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”
“Thank you.” She sat and tucked a few loose strands of hair under her cap.
Her father looked at her expectantly; then, when she failed to speak, he began on his own.
“Well, miss! We find our circumstances a great deal more pleasant than during our last intimate conversation, do we not?”
“Yes. That is to say, I hope so, Father.” Caroline felt she would have to speak slowly to keep all of her words from tumbling out at once. “That is the subject I wished to speak to you about.”
“My dear, you look concerned.”
“I am, Father. Our expenses—are they not as great as before? We have as many servants, I believe, perhaps not in the fields but then, we have not so much land now we’ve a tenant, and it’s true we have no housekeeper yet, but I assume we plan to acquire one and I do not believe—”
“Caroline, please, calm yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Father, but with new gowns ordered, and work by Aunt Bennett’s seamstress and then the new kitchen provisions and the dinner next week—”
“These are but trifles, girl. The usual expenses, necessary to the function of a gentleman’s household.” He spoke sharply, as if he were reprimanding an errant young child.
Caroline did not want him to lash out again, but she could not calm her fears so readily. “Father,” she said at length, “are these not the same expenses that put us so dangerously in debt before?”
“Why, no, of course not.” Carter eased back in his chair. “We have learned from our misjudgment, curbed our expenses—admirably so, in fact.”
“Have we, Father?”
“Indeed, we have. And, in any case, the expenses that made our debt so grievous are not to be repeated. Our ordinary debt was a little excessive, but tobacco prices will rise and the increase would have covered us. It was the extra expense only that caused us real worry.”
“I see. And the housekeeper?”
“Another of the necessary expenses.”
“I am not so certain of that. But what did you mean about expenses not to be repeated?”
Her father leaned forward and took her hand. “I do not wish to upset you. It is from a time best not spoken of.”
“Oh? Oh.” He must mean the expenses incurred when Charles and Mr. Throckmorton had followed her to Charles Town. They had even had to hire a ship—no trifling expense, certainly.
“But don’t worry. It was worth every penny of ransom we paid to that pirate to have you home unharmed.”
Ransom? “You paid a ransom for me, Father?” But hadn’t Mr. Throckmorton stolen her from the alley?
“Yes, yes, that pirate threatened to run off to Nassau or some such place with you and the others if he were not paid in gold. But that’s all over and done with now, and you are quite safe.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Caroline felt as if all the breath had suddenly rushed out of her body.
“There, there, Caroline, you needn’t worry.” Her father hugged her in an awkward fatherly embrace, patting her back as he spoke. “The pirates haven’t followed you. We gave them what they wanted. They have as much gold as we could amass, and by now they’ve spent it, but they won’t trouble to come back this far, not with other, richer targets down south. You can forget about them.”
“Yes, Father.”
“And thanks to that Cheesewringer fellow in London, we can all forget about them.”
“Cheesewringer?”
“The name of the relative in London who managed the debts on our behalf.”
“Was it not a Carter if it was of your family?”
“Oh, I think his name was Robert Cheesewringer Carter, or something much like. It does not signify. Our thanks have been expressed, of course. Goodwin handled all that, and I’m sure he wrote the name out properly. Is it not a prodigiously funny name, though?”
“Indeed it is. Yet I believe I may have heard it before, although I cannot think where. Perhaps in a play?”
“Well, you’ve read a deal more of them than I, so that would—”
A swift knock interrupted him, and a head appeared from the parlor. “We are called to supper, Father,” Georgiana announced.
“Thank you. We will be in momentarily.”
She nodded and closed the door.
“Do you think you can compose yourself for supper, Caroline?”
She nodded.
“We need say no more on the subject of the expenses, then. Such worries are a thing of the past.”
She nodded again then stopped. “But…the housekeeper…”
“What of it?”
“I believe we are better off without one.”
“How so?” He stood and motioned her toward the door.
“The duties of a housekeeper,” Caroline said, rushing through the speech she had rehearsed in her head, “are tasks with which my sisters and I should be familiar. We will need to understand how to run our own households when the time comes.”
“I can see some sense in that.”
She smiled.
“In any case, that is your mother’s affair; it should be left to her discretion.”
Her smile vanished. “Father, I–I do not think Mother would agree with me.”
“Then I am afraid I must side with Mrs. Carter.”
“But, Father, the events of the past months have shown deficiencies in our education about the household. If the affairs are all managed by a housekeeper, we shall—”
“Yes, I see, I see. I will give the matter consideration. But it is not worth waiting supper over.”
“No, sir.” Caroline followed her father into the next room, grateful she might yet su
cceed with her plans concerning a housekeeper.
The warmth of that thought faded, however, as she sat down to the table and remembered the earlier parts of the conversation. She had too much food for thought to have any thoughts for food, and most of her supper returned to the kitchen untouched.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
"So we dine at the Carter home on Tuesday, at the Telford home on Thursday and then you said there is to be a dance?”
Josiah looked up from his papers when he realized some response was required of him. “The dance will be on Saturday, I believe. It is held in your honor.” He hoped contemplating that tribute would occupy his sister for a least a few minutes.
With Sir James inspecting the landing, Eleanor had been left to amuse herself for the day, a task for which she seemed ill-suited. She apparently expected to engage her brother in conversation during the entire period of her husband’s absence. If she mentioned clothing one more time, Josiah decided he really would lock her in a trunk until James returned.
She began to circle the room restlessly, causing certain floorboards to creak at uneven intervals. When the creaking became unbearably annoying, he looked up from his account books again.
“Perhaps you might enjoy a walk outside, Eleanor?”
“In the snow? The wind is too cold. It would make my nose red.”
“Who is there to see if your nose is red?”
“Oh, ’tis so true. There is no one to see. However do you keep from going mad with boredom? Whatever do you do with your time?”
“Some of us have work to do, Eleanor.”
“How very odious for you. You should come back home with us. Then you should never have to worry about work.”
“I find I rather enjoy it.”
Eleanor actually shuddered. “This climate has addled your mind, Josiah. You do not care for work, you never have. You enjoy the finer pursuits, like reading, and discourse among educated minds.”
“Yes, well, I have not time for those things at present. I need to put the accounts in order before I give instructions to my factor.”
His sister began to stamp her feet as she circled. “How you can stand to sit and write in this cold room is beyond me. Father’s study was always the warmest room in the house. And James keeps a fire going in our library all the day, just in case he finds the need to tend to urgent business. Here, I believe the ink would freeze in your pen before it reaches the paper.”
Josiah sighed; he’d had nearly the same thought only a few minutes earlier. He could stand the chill if he became engrossed in his work; but with his sister’s interruptions, he could not concentrate. He put down his pen and stood abruptly.
“I’m going out. If you need me, send Betty or Priscilla down to the quarters.”
He saw her nod her assent as he pulled on his cloak and gloves. Then he was free.
After the darkness of the closed-up house, the bright sun reflecting off the crusty snow nearly blinded him. Since he could scarcely see to walk, he paused for some moments. The cold air felt sharp in his lungs, but it brought him a sense of freshness, as if it cleaned out all the dark, dank sensations from his very soul. After a few such breaths, his eyes focused clearly, and he suddenly felt ready to make a new start.
A new start at what?
The feeling remained, nonetheless. He headed toward the slave quarters at a brisk pace. Although he still was not quite sure what he was going to say to John and needed to fix the words clearly in his mind, all he could think about was the prospect of parading with his sister from one engagement to the next in a social whirlwind.
He had not attended many social occasions in the last year, and although he had considered them a bit of a chore back in England, he found he now rather looked forward to a bit of frivolous amusement. Eleanor’s visit could turn out to be most enjoyable.
Of course, the first event was merely a dinner at Hill Crest, which promised little in the way of real entertainment. It portended an afternoon of giggling sisters and not much chance for agreeable conversation.
Or did it? Caroline did not seem to giggle so much anymore, although he remembered her laughing. But she’d been laughing with him, not at him, hadn’t she? Had they not shared the joke? He felt a peculiar warmth thinking about their last meeting. Very pretty teeth showed when she laughed, and the smile alone somehow made her eyes sparkle.
Had he noticed that when they were engaged? Josiah could not remember.
Their engagement seemed so unreal now, and yet it could be reinstated. The rather elastic colonial society might be prepared to forgive Caroline’s indiscretions, now that her family’s wealth was restored. Marriage to her would not greatly lower his standing in the community.
But this was so much nonsense. He was heavily in debt; it would be foolish to marry now. And he would probably be moving back to England, where an association with Caroline would reduce his position considerably.
Besides, she had never really cared for him to begin with. That much was made plain by her conduct in Charles Town.
Josiah took a deep breath. Now, he understood the sense of a fresh start. The upcoming round of social engagements would give him a fresh opportunity to look for a new future wife—if he did not choose to do that in England.
The sound of voices and laughter drifted out of the shuttered windows as he approached the largest of the slave quarters. He decided to knock before entering; it was his building, of course, but not his home, and he would not feel right walking in unannounced.
More laughter and a variety of eager greetings answered his knock, but Josiah felt almost guilty when he opened the door, for the surprised faces and fading smiles that greeted him indicated they had expected someone else, someone with whom they would feel at ease.
The room was crowded and warm. Men and woman who had been embracing or sitting together instantly jumped apart. Backs straightened, and eyes were turned away. One girl disentangled herself from the throng and stood against the wall as if she dared not move. It was Priscilla.
“Please excuse me for interrupting your Sunday,” Josiah announced quietly. He found it hard to look around with most of the people in the room staring at the floor. Only one person met his gaze. “I would like to have a word with you, John, if I might?”
He held open the door for the man who had served as his unofficial overseer since Ellis’s illicit departure.
The two walked some way in silence. Josiah wanted to get far enough away from the quarters that the people would not feel constrained by his presence on their one day of rest. He kept walking until he had his thoughts fully composed then looked around to discover they’d covered half the distance to the river.
“John?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know I had planned to hire a new overseer to replace Ellis but was unable to do so before being called to Joppa on business.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was time to turn and walk back toward the quarters. Slowly. “Well, it was perhaps a fortunate happenstance. After giving the matter some thought, I’ve come to realize that you are the most appropriate man for the job.”
“Me, sir? Oh, no.”
“But you have, in effect, taken on the position and managed business admirably in my absence.”
“Business, sir? I don’t know business. I can’t write nor figure.”
“No, perhaps not, but I mean the business of the harvest, prizing the tobacco and so forth, and managing the people…”
John looked at him quizzically.
“What I mean is, you know what needs to be done, and you direct the workers to do it. That’s what an overseer does, and that is what you have been doing at Hanset these many months. You are well qualified to be overseer here.”
“But Ellis, sir, was always goin’ on ’bout books and numbers. He spent a great deal of time with ’em. I don’t know dat business.”
“Perhaps not, but I’m not at all sure Ellis did, either. He left the accounts in a frightful state
.” Josiah smiled. “I should be handling those myself in any event. It is my plantation, after all. From now on, I shall take over the accounts, and you shall carry on as you have done but know I am trusting you as overseer.”
“Thank you, sir,” John said quietly. He looked over at his quarters as they approached.
“And, John, as overseer, you will be paid.”
“Paid, sir?”
“Yes, I’m not certain yet as to the amount,” Josiah said, hurrying his words, “for I need to finish straightening the accounts, and I have incurred some debts. But an overseer must be paid.” He looked at the slave to whom he owed so much more than a future promise of salary. “Of course, it will soon amount to enough to buy your freedom, and then you may decide if you wish to stay. But you may go ahead and move into Ellis’s—the overseer’s—house now, regardless.”
“Thank you, sir. Indeed, I thank you.” John bowed.
“And I thank you. You have kept my plantation together despite my earnest efforts to mismanage it into bankruptcy.” He tried to laugh, but John looked at him too steadily, no mirth in his eyes, only patience. It would not have been seemly to thank the man again, so Josiah simply bowed in return and walked quickly back toward the house.
“Mr. Throckmorton, sir!” Betty leaned out the kitchen door as if she were a large cat waiting to pounce on an expected mouse. “Might I speak with you, sir? It is most important.”
Josiah stifled a curse. With his sister’s visit, he was certain Betty had no shortage of items about which to complain. She could start in now and not finish until next week. Nevertheless, he would have to listen to at least some of his housekeeper’s grievances.
“Yes, Betty, certainly.” He held up his hand as she started out the door. “I’ll come in. I know you’ll have a good fire going.”
“Yes, sir.” She grinned as she held open the door.
Josiah sat down on a stool that was near enough to the fire to be warmed by it but not close enough to be engulfed in ashes and grease if a gust of wind should suddenly blow down the chimney. “Now, then. What request of Lady Davenport’s has given you grief?”
