‘Oh, thank God! Abigail’s alive!’
‘Indeed she is, and blames that disastrous journey of her aunts’ squarely on Mrs. Mayfield, who was afraid that her house in Charleston would be destroyed while the town was being fortified against the expected British attack.’
‘They knew about that? And still went?’
‘Dear me, yes. Everyone knows. For a while, with the weather so stormy, we all hoped Clinton’s fleet had been dispersed. They certainly took long enough on their way south. But then, just when everyone’s hopes were up, they turned up at Savannah itself to refit after their rough voyage. That was what sent those poor ladies hurrying north.’
‘Madness,’ said Mercy, ‘to go to a town that was expecting a siege.’
‘But nobody expects the British to succeed,’ said the doctor comfortably. ‘General Clinton has more enemies than friends; there are even rumours that he has resigned his command. And you know what happened last time the British attacked Charleston. Moultrie and his friends soon sent them to the right-about. And of course, poor Mrs. Mayfield had another reason to be anxious about her house.’
‘Oh?’
‘I have no doubt that Miss Abigail Purchis will have mentioned it in her letter. It is common knowledge now that Mrs. Mayfield’s son Francis was playing a double game, pretending to be an ardent Patriot, but in fact siding with the British. You must have known that.’
‘I certainly did.’ Mercy shivered, remembering how nearly Francis had been her death.
‘Well, naturally, when the Patriots in Charleston heard about that, there was talk of confiscating the Mayfield house. Which, I understand, is most admirably situated, for either military or trade purposes. A most valuable property. Mrs. Mayfield hoped to save it by showing her Patriot sympathies in that dangerous journey north. She made various statements, before she left, about how she had supported you in your activities as the Rebel Pamphleteer.’
‘Good gracious!’ said Mercy. ‘Just fancy that!’ And then, ‘So you know about that too?’
‘My dear Mrs. Purchis, here in Philadelphia we are at the centre of things, we know everything. And one thing I can tell you, you will have no trouble in establishing your and your husband’s claim to the Charleston house.’
‘Our claim?’
‘Mrs. Mayfield left no will. As her nephew your husband is her natural heir. And to his mother’s property in Savannah, of course, though for the moment Sir James Wright has granted that to Miss Abigail Purchis, as the only Loyalist in the family. I have no doubt she has written to you about that in her letter, which I will fetch and leave you in peace. You must rest, Mrs. Purchis. Your recovery is little short of a miracle; you have my orders not to leave your room until I give you permission.’
‘But the Mr. Palmers! How can I continue to impose on them so?’
‘Nothing of the kind. They are proud to be caring for a heroine of the Revolution. And you are not to be worrying about being a charge on them either. It is unfortunate, of course, that there are no representatives from Georgia here in Philadelphia at present, but there is talk of Governor Howley’s coming north, and I am sure he will do something for you when he gets here. And besides, your husband may sail up the Delaware any day, with prize money and to spare.’
‘If only there would be news of him,’ said Mercy.
‘I’m sure there will be soon.’ He handed her the letter he had taken out of a bureau drawer. ‘I’ll leave you to rest now if you are sure Miss Paston will be herself when she wakes.’
‘Oh, yes, I have seen her in these fits before.’
‘And seen her through them, I have no doubt. May I say what a remarkable young lady I think you, Mrs. Purchis?’
‘Young?’ she said. ‘I feel a thousand years old.’
‘Well, I have news for you.’ He picked up a hand glass and gave it to her. ‘You most certainly do not look it. I had been wondering how to break it to you about your hair!’
‘My? Good God!’ The face that looked back at her from the glass was a stranger’s. No, stranger than that. It was the face she remembered from that first day at Winchelsea, when Hart had rescued her from the mob that killed her father. A thin, pale face, oddly young, with dark hair cut short around it, so different, so strangely different from the golden tan and henna-tinted hair that had ensnared young British officers in Savannah.
‘We had to cut it,’ said the doctor. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you set a new style. And a fine change it would be from the monstrous high heads Philadelphia ladies wear these days.’
‘Philadelphia,’ she said. ‘I’m in Philadelphia.’
Abigail’s letter was short, hurriedly written, and very much to the point:
Dearest Mercy,
I have just heard the things people are saying. You are not to believe any of them. My aunt Mayfield would go to Charleston. She had heard that the Patriots meant to confiscate her house. You know how she felt about that house. My poor aunt Purchis didn’t want to go with her above half, but she had some mad hope that she would find Hart there, or that he would be able to find her. It had nothing whatever to do with you, Mercy dear, or with anything you had done, and you must let nothing make you think otherwise. I am writing Hart today, though God knows when he will get the letter, and am also telling him, as I do you, that I am merely holding the house in Oglethorpe Square for him, and for you, and for your children. Dear Mercy, I am so happy for you both.
For your children. Warm, gentle, relieving tears poured down her face. She should have known that Abigail would stand her friend. Whatever happened, Abigail would hold the house in Oglethorpe Square for Hart and for her. And their children! Abigail believed them happily married. Poor Abigail, whose own lover was somewhere in Europe, serving in the British army. How much more hope for her and Hart than for Abigail and Giles Haversham. What a selfish wretch she had been, thinking only of her own troubles.
Beside her, Ruth stirred, someone else who had more troubles than hers. ‘Mercy!’ She looked up and saw Mercy bending over her. ‘You’re better! You’re really better?’
‘Really and truly.’ Mercy smiled down at her. ‘And all thanks to you, the doctor says. You saved my life, Ruth dear, with your love and your nursing.’
‘I’m glad.’ Ruth reached out a hand to take Mercy’s white one, and Mercy felt how chapped and sore it was.
‘You’ve looked after me all by yourself?’
Ruth actually laughed. ‘I should rather think I had. Mrs. Peabody, the housekeeper, doesn’t reckon much to us, I’m afraid. But I’ve been glad to help out in the kitchen, so long as it meant she didn’t fuss about your being ill. And Jed’s been worth his weight in gold in the yard, so she hasn’t really been able to make much of it.’
‘But surely, the Palmers … Mr. Brisson …’
‘Oh, Mr. Brisson went away quite soon, and as to the Palmers, I don’t really think they notice what goes on in the house, so long as they get their meals on time. They’re down at the countinghouse mostly. I wish we could get a house of our own, Mercy. I know it’s ungrateful of me, but I don’t somehow like those Palmers.’
‘Why, Ruth!’ Mercy was amazed at the change in the girl. It was almost worth having been so ill herself if it had wrought this amazing improvement in Ruth’s condition. But, she remembered, there had been that screaming fit that had shaken her out of her own lethargy. ‘Ruth.’ She wondered if she dared ask it. ‘Do you remember screaming just now?’
‘Yes. I’m ashamed. It’s the first time, Mercy, since you got ill.’
‘Do you know what started it?’
‘Started?’ Ruth looked at her surprised. They had never discussed her screaming fits before. ‘Why, yes. I was afraid I was going to lose you too, like my mother, like poor sister Naomi. Oh, Mercy; poor Naomi.’ Now she was crying, but crying easily, as Mercy herself had done earlier.
‘We’re going to be better now,’ said Mercy. ‘Both of us. And we’re going to find somewhere else to live, where they
don’t treat you like a servant, Ruth dear.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Ruth. ‘Not if it’s for you.’
X
Coming home for their five o’clock dinner, George and Henry Palmer found Mercy up and dressed to receive them. ‘Why, Mrs. Purchis, this is a famous surprise.’ George Palmer took her hand in his moist one. ‘But are you sure you should be up so soon?’
‘So soon?’ She looked from him to his brother, thinking how very little she knew about these chance-met journey companions. ‘I am only ashamed to have trespassed so on your hospitality. I hope it will not be long before I am able to take myself and my two young friends off your hands.’ She had given up the pretence that the three of them were brother and sisters.
‘Off our hands!’ exclaimed Henry Palmer, who, like his brother, was very plainly dressed in black broadcloth, with the whitest possible linen. ‘But thee must not be thinking of such a thing, Mrs. Purchis.’
‘You’re Quakers!’ she exclaimed. ‘I had no idea.’ But of course, Philadelphia was a Quaker city.
‘Not very good ones, I am afraid.’ George Palmer had a fulminating glance for his younger brother. ‘You will have noticed that I have found it best, for many reasons, to abandon the sect’s mannerisms of speech. I only wish I could persuade my brother to do likewise. As you surely know, Mrs. Purchis, such a politician as you are, the Quakers here in Philadelphia are deeply tainted with Loyalism. Absurd of them. I cannot imagine why having come here for religious reasons, they think they will be safe or happy under the bigoted government of George the Third and his Parliament. That is why I, personally, have ceased all connection with the sect. But my brother is an obstinate man, Mrs. Purchis, and one must respect him for sticking to his religious principles.’
‘Indeed one must.’ Mercy looked from one jowled, prosperous face to the other. They did not look as if they had let their principles stand very seriously in the way of their business. Would Mr. Golding look something like this, she wondered, if she ever met him? Another prosperous businessman making a profit out of this war, regardless of principle. ‘I owe you more than I can ever repay,’ she said. And then, watching their faces with amusement, ‘in kindness, I mean. Of course, what my young friends and I owe you for board and lodging will be repaid just as soon as I can arrange funds from my family. I have had the kindest possible letter from my cousin Miss Abigail Purchis, in Savannah, who is holding the family house there for my husband and myself. It is, therefore, but a matter of time before I can repay you, but for the present I must really arrange to cease burdening your household with our party.’
‘But, Mrs. Purchis, thee cannot be serious,’ said Henry Palmer.
‘You must let us persuade you to think again of this,’ interrupted his brother. ‘We have looked forward so much to the pleasure of introducing you to Philadelphia society. And indeed, Mrs. Purchis, I fear I should warn you not to entertain too high hopes of help from Georgia. You must know, I am sure, as well as I do, how sadly divided their councils are down there. I am afraid we have to face it that the Continental Congress is hesitant about throwing good money after bad in that direction. Lachlan McIntosh is a friend of your husband’s – is he not? – and you must have followed this whole deplorable business of the forged letter about him. What with that and the savage duel in which James Jackson killed George Wells out in the wild west of Georgia somewhere, the Continental Congress thinks it better to send any funds it can spare to General Lincoln, who commands the Continental forces in the South, and to Joseph Clay, the Paymaster General. I doubt even Governor Howley – if he still is governor – will be in a position to do much for you.’
‘Whereas we,’ said his brother, ‘are willing, are eager to present thee to society as our friend and honoured guest. There is to be a ball at the French Minister’s next week – the Chevalier de la Luzerne. All of Philadelphia will be there. Naturally you were invited, as our guest, but we were not able to hold out much hope of your being able to attend. But now, perhaps?’ He saw her hesitate. ‘Your friend Mr. Brisson will be there, I know. He intends to return in time for the party. It will be quite an occasion, Mrs. Purchis, and one at which I think you would be wise to be present. General Washington has accepted, I believe, and so have General Arnold and his wife.’
‘Benedict Arnold? But I thought there was some trouble about corruption during the time he was military commander here after the British evacuation.’
‘What a well-informed young lady you are to be sure,’ said George Palmer. ‘But that’s all over and done with. He was tried this January on a set of trumped-up charges and dismissed without a stain on his character. This party will put the final touch on his position. You should most certainly come, Mrs. Purchis.’
‘But – my mother-in-law – my husband’s aunt – I’m in the deepest mourning.’
‘My dear Mrs. Purchis, if everyone who was in mourning stayed at home these days, there would be no parties. Wear your blacks, of course, but come.’
‘I would certainly like to meet General Washington,’ she said. And then, remembering. ‘This invitation, I hope it extends to Miss Paston, too? After all, her brother was a hero of the Revolution if ever there was one.’
‘Ah, Miss Paston.’ George Palmer looked unhappy. ‘Mrs. Peabody tells me she had a screaming fit yesterday. Not perhaps the ideal guest for a social event?’
‘Mr. Palmer, have you looked at Miss Paston’s hands lately?’
‘Her hands?’
‘Yes. She has been working in your kitchen like a drudge and nursing me, which it seems was beneath your Mrs. Peabody’s dignity. No wonder if she grew hysterical, with so much responsibility on her shoulders. Dr. Marston says I owe her my life, and I believe him. It is good of you to ask me to stay on with you, to wish me to accompany you to this party of the French Minister’s. If I do either, it is on the understanding that Ruth Paston is treated as I am.’
‘And the boy, Jed?’ George Palmer sounded different, suddenly, formidable. ‘I suppose I am to invite him into the parlour?’
‘No, no.’ Mercy gave him a very straight look. ‘You know as well as I do that he would be miserable. But I see no reason why you should not pay him for all the work he seems to be doing about the place.’
‘But of course.’ His tone was ingratiating again. ‘Stupid of me to have let it slip my mind. I will make arrangements at once, and you and Miss Paston will come to the French Minister’s ball?’
‘Yes,’ said Mercy, aware of a tacit bargain struck. ‘Yes, I think we will. And now, if you will excuse me, I must write to my husband.’
‘You have had news then?’
‘Alas, no. But he promised to look for me in Farnham when he could. There must be a letter waiting for him there.’
‘Write by all means, Mrs. Purchis.’ His tone was sceptical. ‘We can most certainly send the letter to Farnham for you.’
The French Legation occupied what had been the John Dickinson House on Chestnut Street between Sixth and Seventh streets. A handsome house, it was set by itself in grounds that had been used as a graveyard when it was a military hospital before the British capture of Philadelphia. But under the new Minister, Luzerne, the house had been entirely renovated and the gardens restocked. ‘You should see it in the spring,’ said George Palmer, helping Mercy out of his sledge onto steps swept clean of snow. ‘The gardens are a perfect feast of blossom in May.’
‘Concealing graves?’ Mercy could not help a shudder.
‘Mrs. Purchis!’ Angrily. ‘This is a party, given by our gallant allies, in the first foreign legation to be opened in our country. It is no time to be refining on such thoughts.’
‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ She was glad to leave him and take off her warm coat in the well-heated boudoir set aside for lady guests. Surveying her neat black self in the glass, she could not help a wry comparison with the groups of exquisitely clad Philadelphia belles around her. One particularly caught her eye, a conscious beauty in a pink dress ov
er a gauze petticoat and with five white plumes nodding over her high-piled hair. As Palmer had said, all the ladies’ heads were dressed immensely high, so that she felt a positive freak with her own short-cropped, closely curling hair.
Best get it over with. Following the beauty out into the main hail where the Palmer brothers were awaiting her, she heard them greet her effusively as Mrs. Arnold. ‘But I do not see your husband, Ma’am,’ said George Palmer.
‘No. Too tedious.’ She shrugged bare, beautiful shoulders. ‘Some legal business or other, but he hopes to look in for a moment later on.’
‘No fear that you will lack for cavaliers in the meanwhile,’ said George Palmer, heavily gallant, then paused, seeing Mercy where she stood behind Mrs. Arnold. ‘Ah, my dear Mrs. Purchis, you must let me make you known to Mrs. Benedict Arnold.’
‘Delighted, I am sure.’ Mrs. Arnold swept a deep, faintly mocking curtsy, and Mercy remembered that she had been known for her Tory sympathies before her surprise marriage to the famous American general so much older than herself. Returning the curtsy with a rustle of black bombasine, she thought that there might well be truth in the rumour that Mrs. Arnold’s extravagance had had something to do with the accusations that her husband had taken advantage of his position as military governor of Philadelphia to feather his own nest. Or pay for his wife’s imported French hats?
‘The heroine of the hour,’ said Mrs. Arnold. ‘But I must condole with you on the deaths of your mother-in-law and her sister, Mrs. Purchis. I trust you have comfortable news of your husband, ma’am.’
‘None, I am sorry to say.’ Mercy was glad now that she had reluctantly agreed to Ruth’s pleas to stay at home. This party was no place for her. She turned at a touch on her arm and was delighted to see Charles Brisson.
Wide is the Water Page 13
