by Izzy James
The red in Crawley’s face deepened to crimson. “No, thank you.” He checked his tone. “My mother is in need of nothing at the moment.” This time when he leaned in, the gleam in his eye hinted of impropriety.
Delany leaned back.
“Were you frightened?” He rocked back on his heels, looked over his shoulder at Field, rested his elbows on the counter, and breathed a rotten cloud. “I will protect you.”
Over my dead body. "Thank you, Mr. Crawley, for your offer, but I can take care of myself." She came out from behind the counter. "Now if there is nothing else, I really shouldn't keep my customers waiting."
After a last glance at her, and then Field, he exited.
Delany wiped the counter of his greasy imprint.
~*~
When the doorbells tinkled, indicating the departure of Mr. Crawley, Field turned toward Mrs. Fleet. The insinuation in Mr. Crawley’s declaration of protection gave Field pause. Perhaps his mother had been wrong to send him here.
To be fair, he had kept his back to them to give the man some privacy in his transaction. Any man looking to buy plumpers for his mother would be glad of some privacy. And the glass in which he’d watched their reflections didn’t tell a reliable tale. If he read her correctly, she was as repulsed by Crawley as he was infatuated with her. Field thought he saw her look to him for help, but reflections in wavy glass could be distorted. The look in her eye might have been a warning to Crawley to be more guarded in his speech. He needed to watch the next interaction between them to determine their relationship. He couldn’t risk his cargo on reminiscences of his mother.
“Mr. Archer, what a surprise to see you here,” she said as she tidied her auburn hair with one hand. “Today of all days.”
“I just arrived from London.”
“Bet you didn’t think you would be stepping into this mess.”
“Well, I was surprised at the storm damage.” He smiled. He had no intention of bringing up the printer and all it meant after the display he’d just seen. “Your place here seems to have been spared.” He nodded toward the eighteen-light windows on either side of the door.
Delany Fleet hadn’t changed much since he had seen her four years ago at Archer Hall. Certainly, her lavender silk damask gown was of finer material than previously worn on visits to his family home. She wore her own hair piled up on top of her head in the latest fashion with sprigs of curls left out to softly frame her face. Fleet’s must be doing well. Certainly, she was doing well for a former servant.
“Yes. I thank God for it.” Her voice came out as a sighed release of energy. She raised her silvery eyes to look directly into his. “Is there something I can get for you, Mr. Archer?”
“My mother sent you this.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a small parcel wrapped in cloth.
2
Delany accepted the parcel and carefully placed it on the countertop. Wonder displaced the anger and frustration she’d struggled with all day. She untied the ribbon and peeled back the cloth. Inside lay a tiny dress of pink silk and lace.
“My mother was very specific in the shade and style of cut.”
“So kind.” Mist clouded her eyes. “And so like Mrs. Archer. It’s perfect.”
“Is one of my mother’s creations lying around improperly attired?” He smiled at her again and lounged against the counter.
She smiled back. Field was taller than the odious Crawley, and his effect on her was startling. Instead of threatened, she felt warmed and comforted as if a long-lost friend had come to rescue her from trouble. It had been a strange day. The last person in the colony she would ever consider a friend was Field Archer.
“This is not for one of your mother’s dolls. It’s for something completely different.” The pink silk was so delicate she feared to stain it with her work-dirty fingers. Later, when she was alone, she would take out the doll her mother had made when Delany was four years old and try it on, but she knew it would fit. When God sent a present, it was always exactly right. “Thank you for bringing it to me.” She looked up again and found the old playfulness in his warm brown eyes. He hadn’t forgotten her after all. At least five years her senior, he had been present on every trip the Fleets had taken to Archer Hall to bring Mrs. Archer the latest in toy innovation.
Delany spent the summer of her fifteenth year dreaming of him. At twenty-seven, she was long over Field Archer and had no desire to go back. It was time she followed her own dreams. She re-wrapped the parcel and placed it in the work basket she always carried home from the shop.
“You are most welcome. Perhaps it will help pave the way for the next question I have to ask you.” He stepped back from the counter and looked at the floor. “I have just been to the King’s Arms, and because of storm damage, Mrs. Pearse doesn’t have room for me to stay. May I stay here until I leave for home? It should only be a couple of days.”
No.
He is Ann Archer’s oldest son. No one since her father had been as kind to her as Ann Archer. Kemp’s Landing would just have to wait.
The back door slapped shut, and Ben came through to the store. Following him was a man Delany had not seen before.
“This is my man, Robert,” Field said before she could ask.
“Yes, I can provide a room for you.” Delany said. “But not here. You will have to come to my house where there is a proper bed and a proper bath, and you can be properly fed.”
“I don’t wish to burden you, Mrs. Fleet.”
“Mr. Archer, your mother is dear to me. It is no imposition to give her son a bed for a couple of nights. For propriety’s sake, I will make arrangements with my friend, Mrs. Harrison, to stay with us as well. There is room for Robert in the kitchen with the Tabbs.” She motioned to Ben. “Go ask Miss Sarah to come for dinner, and tell Mary we will have two guests this evening. And ask Ruben to come to help with Mr. Archer’s trunks.”
Ben nodded and left by the front door with Robert close behind.
“I shall only require one trunk. I have instructed Robert to place my other cargo in your warehouse if that is convenient.”
She readily agreed. Her house was a generous size, but there was hardly storage for four years’ worth of trinkets and gifts he must be bringing home to his family.
“I have one more request,” Field continued. “Passage home.”
“That will be difficult. His majesty’s ships control the waterways. It’s hard to get through.” She rolled her eyes. “They suspect everyone of smuggling arms and ammunition. When they’re not busy stealing supplies from the local farms, that is.”
“That leaves traveling by coach.”
“The committee has the roads tied up. You will have to get a pass.”
“Can you point me in the right direction?”
“I can point. I can’t guarantee anything, but I can point.”
~*~
The light of dusk set Delany’s lavender gown to glow while a stiff breeze relieved the humidity of the day. Field picked up Delany’s work basket and offered her his other arm. She took it, but her arm remained rigid against his, creating a six-inch gap.
“I won’t attack you, Mrs. Fleet.”
A sharp turn of her head, and he was accosted by her remarkable eyes.
“Mr. Archer, if I thought you would attack me, I would hardly offer to entertain you in my home.”
He chuckled and walked in the direction she indicated.
“No doubt you are aware of the rules of propriety” Delany said, scanning the street, for what, he didn’t know. “I am a widow and toy store owner. I can’t afford to have my reputation sullied.”
Field glanced at the wooden buildings lining the streets. Most of the shops were closed or closing. Dark interiors silvered the backs of window glass begetting mirrors of the street. Distant singing from a pub in the next street carried on the salty harbor air.
“As quiet as these streets are, I can’t imagine anyone seeing anything amiss.”
“You have been
too long from home, Mr. Archer. Even the streets have eyes.”
Yes, too long, and he wasn’t home yet. Norfolk was just a way point. A couple of miles inland, away from the warehouses and muddy streets, where his feet slipped on sandy soil and pine trees loomed overhead, it would feel like home. He wouldn’t rest until he had made it to Northumberland County and Archer Hall.
Two blocks from the shop, they left the dusty, dried-mud road and stepped onto the only paved thoroughfare in Norfolk. A short distance led to a cobbled sidewalk and up to a large brick house.
The setting afternoon sun warmed the spacious front hall through windows surrounding the door. A staircase led to the top of the house. Immediately to the left lay a large parlor dominated by two tall bookcases full of volumes.
“You're a reader.”
“Does that surprise you?”
A tall, pregnant woman arrived from the back of the house. She wore the brown calico dress of a servant.
“Miss Delany.” The woman nodded and took Delany’s bag. “Miss Sarah said she’d be along for supper. I have water prepared for the waterfall. It won’t have had enough time to warm.”
“Thank you, Mary." Delany turned to him. “Follow Mary. She’ll show you to the mechanical waterfall.”
“You have a waterfall?”
“Yes. Mary will show you. It might be a little cold, but I find it refreshing on days like these.”
Field followed Mary through the hallway out to the back porch where Robert waited. On the porch stood a tall wooden closet. At the top of the closet rested a small cistern. He had heard of these contraptions, of course, but he had yet to use one. How interesting to find someone in a provincial colony with such a device. On the other hand, where else would it be more practical than in hot and humid Norfolk?
“You stand in there, pull this chain to get yourself wet,” Robert said, “and then wash. Once you are done washing, pull the chain and rinse yourself.” Robert handed him a towel and a cake of soap. His banyan and slippers rested on a small bench next to the closet.
Field stepped into the closet to remove his clothes.
Delany Fleet intrigued him. Like her shop, she was full of odd curiosities. Much more than the young girls continually introduced to him in London. Field wanted a wife, and if he could have found someone to love with an ounce of sense among the lilies in bloom in London, he would have married her. Meeting Delany again confirmed what he’d been thinking as he’d left England to come home. His wife should be home grown. Unfortunately, the only woman in Virginia ever interested in him was Simon’s sister, Hester. He winced at the thought. Horsey Hester. He wasn’t that desperate. No. Love was what he wanted. Love for each other made his parents’ marriage different from most of the others he’d seen. He could hold out until he found the right woman.
He set his clothes on the bench outside and pulled the chain. By the time he stepped out, his teeth were chattering, and his fingertips were blue. Clean? Yes. Refreshing? No. In his room, he found Robert had laid out his midnight blue frock coat and buff breeches for dinner.
Downstairs, he rejoined his hostess in the parlor. She, too, was dressed for dinner in a soft grey gown that accented her eyes and clear complexion and contrasted the rose of her lips. The curly spins of auburn hair had been tamed and returned to her simple knot. He deliberately turned his gaze to the other woman in the room.
"Mr. Archer, may I present my dear friend, Mrs. Harrison."
Mrs. Harrison, trim and prim in black broadcloth, looked good for a woman of late forties or early fifties. He’d wager her clear blue eyes didn’t miss much. He bowed. “Mrs. Harrison.”
Ben, clean and dressed in a brown suit, stood by a window.
Field nodded to the boy and received a nod in return.
Once Mary gestured to Delany, the company moved across the hall to the dining room.
Delany sat at the head of the long oval table; to her left, Mrs. Harrison. Field was offered the seat to her right, and Ben sat next to him.
When Mary, with Ruben to assist, had set down platters of ham and chicken, a plate of cornbread, bowls of fruit and greens, they stood by seats at the foot of the table.
Field stifled his surprise.
“Where is Robert?” Delany asked.
“He didn’t feel comfortable sitting here with us, so with your permission, we will join him in the kitchen,” Ruben answered.
“Very well. It won’t do to make him uncomfortable.”
“Do your servants usually eat with you?” Field asked. Intellectually, he could concede, as Mr. Wesley asserted, that all people were entitled to access to God. All humans could and should receive Christ. But surely that did not mean one had to eat with one’s servants. Did his mother know of this?
“Only dinner. The rest of the time, we are all just too busy.”
“Mr. Archer,” Sarah injected, “Mrs. Fleet tells me that your mother carves the dolls that Mrs. Fleet sells in her shop.”
“Yes, ma’am, she does.”
“I have given one of your mother’s dolls to each of my four granddaughters. They are prized possessions, I can tell you.”
“My mother will be glad to hear it.” Indeed, her letters had been full of elation for her new vocation. “But I’ve been wondering for some time how Mrs. Fleet convinced my very private mother to display her works in a shop. In Norfolk, no less. Is not Williamsburg considered more refined?”
“Perhaps, Mr. Archer, your mother preferred to take a risk where she was less known,” Delany responded.
“I find it curious that my mother should display her work at all.”
“That you will have to take up with Mrs. Archer,” Delany said. “But I will say this: toys are far more useful items than people give them credit for. I believe a curious mind is a healthy mind, and the more one uses it to solve puzzles of one kind or another the better.”
“You have made a study of the subject?” Field paused for her answer.
“Not in the way you suggest, but I have long observed the effects of toys on my customers.”
“Perhaps you should commission a study to be undertaken or perhaps undertake the study yourself.”
“Perhaps I should indeed.” She teased him with a grin.
“Mrs. Fleet, how did you come by a mechanical waterfall?”
“I read about it, and I thought it would be a godsend in the Virginia heat.”
“It certainly does cool off a person.”
“You weren’t too cold, were you?” Concern softened her eyes from silver to gray. “I’ve come out of there with my teeth chattering.” Her face lit with merriment. “Mary will usually put fresh water in there in the morning so it has time to warm up a little before I use it. She didn’t have time today.”
“I heard John Holt was hiding in his office the whole time the soldiers were in there, and they didn't find him.” Ben's outburst of enthusiasm reminded him of himself at thirteen. He begged his father to let him go fight with Washington in the French and Indian War.
“Folks are saying that Lord Dunmore will free the slaves and the indentured,” Mrs. Harrison said. “One would think his lordship was looking for war.”
“He should free the slaves,” Delany said. “Indenture is an entirely different thing, of course.”
His mind scrambled. “Do you side with the King?” He would have to find someone else to help him. The trunks should be safe in her warehouse until tomorrow. Then he would have to make other arrangements.
“I didn’t say that I side with Lord Dunmore or his king. I said that slavery should be outlawed.”
“But you think it is acceptable for his lordship to take the property of freeborn men?”
“No. I think the plundering that he has done on local plantations is outrageous. However, people were created by God and should never be property. Therefore, in my estimation, it is perfectly sound that he should free people who should never be enslaved in the first place."
“Do you think he intends that they
will remain free?”
The flash in her eyes told him she hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know.”
“But you do know that indentures are different?"
The confusion cleared on her face, “Oh, yes. People indenture themselves of their own free will. It’s a contract that they make with their employer."
“So you don't find that hard?”
“Some masters are hard. Yes. But how is the system itself any different from a man hiring out as a clerk in someone's office and being paid a daily wage?” Delany tore a piece of cornbread and lathered it with butter. “Our own indenture proved quite profitable for my father and me.”
He could hardly argue with a former indentured servant about indentured servitude.
“Where do you stand on independence, Mrs. Fleet?”
“Independence of whom, Mr. Archer?” She took a sip of water and skewered him with a glinty, silver look. “If you speak of women, I’m all for it. I believe women should be allowed to participate in the process by which they are governed. And to sell the efforts of their creativity should they so choose.”
“Especially when they contribute financially to the benefit of the communities in which they live,” Mrs. Hamilton added.
“Precisely,” Delany said. “Where do you stand on the independence of women, Mr. Archer?” The impish look in her countenance confused him. Was she teasing him, or had she deftly but deliberately evaded his question?
3
Sitting at her desk in the cool early morning with her Bible in the quiet, establishing her connection with her Lord, was the source of Delany’s strength. This morning she could feel Field Archer upstairs pulling her thoughts from what she needed to accomplish. She closed the Bible.
What is it about that man that makes my house feel crowded?
Perhaps if she concentrated on work, she could focus her thoughts. Mr. Harris had brought the papers necessary to release the Tabbs from their indenture, and she needed to review them to confirm that all was in order.
Delany had heard the rumors of Lord Dunmore’s threat long before Sarah had brought it up at dinner last night. It was time to free Mary and Ruben from their agreement. Initially planned to be a gift when the baby came, there was no time for that now. The land agreed upon was the same land Delany and her father had earned from the elder Mr. Fleet, her father-in-law. It adjoined the property that Ben’s father, Samuel, still farmed. Her heart warmed at the thought of Ruben and Mary in their very own home when their baby came. She tucked the papers away in her basket. Tomorrow she would stop by Mr. Harris’s to sign them in front of witnesses.
