The Shopkeeper's Widow

by Izzy James

  “Chocolate, Miss Delany?” Mary slipped in with a tray. “Will you be attending services this morning?”

  “Yes.” Delany took the cup of chocolate from the tray to let it warm her cupped hands. “If Mr. Archer is not up when we leave, you may leave breakfast on the sideboard for him.”

  Mary nodded and left the room.

  Delany reached for a piece of toast and gazed out the window into the garden beyond. A mist clung to the shady ground near the fence line. It would be another hot day.

  The ache for a child of her own was no longer a surprise. As Mary’s child grew larger, Delany’s longing grew deeper. She had never loved Tom and didn’t believe she could love any man so much that she was willing to give away her freedom again.

  But a child was a different story. It was too late now, but she knew she would have loved her own child as she loved Ben. He excelled at his apprenticeship and would be a worthy heir. Now she had to get him home to Princess Anne County where he would be safe with his father and mother. She would go to Kemp’s Landing and do what she could to help the militia.

  Delany’s library was positioned in such a way that she could view the stairs and hall without being observed, at least to those unfamiliar with its layout. Field, in a forest green frock coat and buff breeches, came down the stairs for breakfast, and Delany couldn’t help but stare at the fluid and graceful way he moved. He walked into the dining room and immediately came back out again headed toward her library. He scanned the book-lined walls before addressing her. “Impressive.”

  “Is it the library or the fact that it belongs to a woman that impresses you, Mr. Archer?” She couldn’t seem to stop heckling him and didn’t know why. He was leaving in a couple of days, and then her life could go back to normal.

  Raised eyebrows and twinkling brown eyes, he answered, “I’ll admit to both.” He smiled broadly. “The women of my most recent acquaintance disliked the smell of libraries.”

  “Then they need new cleaning staff.”

  He laughed out loud at her comment, and she smiled at him.

  “May I escort you to services this morning?” Field asked.

  Delany hesitated. She was going to the service, and they could go together. Did that mean he had to escort her? She supposed it did. “Yes, you may.” She stood. “You will find breakfast in the dining room. I will join you shortly.” She looked up.

  He smiled at her and left the room. He might think her flighty, but she needed some space from him. She had things of her own to do, and they didn’t include a stranger from the past who couldn’t see past her indenture.

  ~*~

  Sarah was always a late riser. Delany was just about to send Mary to see if Sarah would accompany them to church when Sarah flew down the stairs, slippers clattering on the polished wood. Sarah stopped short when she saw everyone assembled by the door.

  Delany smiled. “We were just leaving.”

  “I’m ready.” Sarah, breathing in gasps, walked stately the rest of the way down.

  Ben offered his arm to Sarah.

  Mary and Ruben followed them out the door.

  Field offered his arm to Delany.

  Once again, Delany kept a rigid distance from Field. The way to the Borough Church took them back through Market Square and up Church Street. Rolled lumps of dried mud fought her feet. Lord Dunmore had called it a “dirty borough,” and she could see his point. She walked more in her pattens than out of them. What the borough lacked in beauty, it made up for in energy. It bustled with people who were building things, selling things, buying things. Norfolk had it all. Today, it rested—except for the steady throng leaving the threat of his Lordship’s gun boats.

  ~*~

  Church Street, the only road out of town, also housed the church. Wagons full of household goods lumbered by them. Mothers and fathers watching and corralling crying babies and playing children made their way down the street.

  Field placed his hand over Delany’s on his arm and stepped quickly in front of Ben and Mrs. Harrison as much to protect them as to provide a way through the confusion of people.

  Mr. Crawley, in a suit of black broadcloth, stood near the door of the church with an older woman Field assumed was his mother. The older woman was dressed like her son in somber broadcloth with the addition of frothy white lace.

  Delany tensed under his touch when she caught sight of the pair. He once again placed his hand over hers.

  She relaxed the distance between them.

  “Mrs. Fleet, I see you are not alone,” Mr. Crawley said looking at Field, who stood at least a head taller than the merchant.

  “Mr. Crawley, Mrs. Crawley, I would like you to meet an old family friend, Mr. Field Archer.”

  Field nodded a bow and smiled at them.

  “An old family friend.” Crawley’s dark eyes took in every inch of Delany’s indigo gown.

  Delany stepped closer to Field and stiffened.

  “I wonder you didn’t introduce us yesterday.” Mr. Crawley sneered.

  “Come along, John. We’ll be late.” The command issued by his mother brought him to her side.

  Field navigated them to Delany’s pew box directly in front of the Crawley’s, and he moved through the motions of the service thinking only of Delany’s reaction to Crawley. What hold did he have over her?

  He leaned over and whispered, “We need to talk.”

  Reverend Black introduced his guest as a minister from Pennsylvania. The guest spoke of the unrest around them as a coming revolution. That was dangerous talk in a town that seemed so loyal to the king.

  Field had stood in the crowd as they’d done nothing when the printer’s press had been confiscated. The men present could easily have overpowered the few soldiers Lord Dunmore had sent. Had this minister been there as well?

  “We have heard that the crown has a black list of some of our most trusted representatives in the Assembly in Williamsburg. There is reason to believe that at the first sign of trouble, those leaders will be sought out and apprehended. Shall we do nothing?” the minister asked.

  Field’s heart froze at the words resounding from the pulpit. If they were true, his father was in danger. And if Lord Dunmore knew that Reed Archer’s son was under his nose, Field wouldn’t stand a chance. He had to act quickly. At the last syllable of the final blessing, Field motioned toward the entrance of the box.

  Delany took his cue and led the way out.

  In the aisle, he was introduced to Sarah Harrison’s children and grandchildren as well as the Parkers and the Harris family and others he would never remember.

  They smiled at him and complimented his mother. He nodded and smiled back. After thirty minutes of meeting and greeting, they finally reached the door and stepped outside.

  “Mrs. Fleet, would you walk with me over the bridge?”

  She took his arm and with the rigid distance back in place between them, they headed the long way home. The day was warm, but a breeze blew off the water that kept it tolerable.

  “About Mr. Crawley,” he started.

  She pulled her arm from his and interlaced her fingers. “I owe you an apology for the way I exaggerated our connection to the Crawleys.”

  “It is of no consequence. My mother speaks quite warmly of you. That alone certainly elevates you closer to our family than any other merchant I know.” Her gaze flew to his; a guarded relief warmed their silver depths.

  “Mr. Crawley suffers from the delusion that I will marry him.”

  The thought of her in Crawley’s greasy arms repulsed him. He took a deep breath. She was entitled to do what she wished with her life. “Shall you?”

  “Absolutely not.” She shuddered.

  “Then what hold does he have over you?”

  “He was a friend of my late husband. When Tom died within a few days of his father, Mr. Crawley helped me get on my feet. Not financially, you understand. That was all taken care of. But he helped me keep the store open, so he thinks he’s entitled to me.” She wr
apped her arms around herself and shivered. “He is personally acquainted with Lord Dunmore and is willing to denounce anyone he thinks supports the militia.”

  “Then Reverend Black’s guest had better run.”

  “He doesn’t care about a mere minister. It’s money he’s after. He wants my store and anything else he can get for cheap.”

  The lust for money was not what Field had seen in Crawley’s eye when he looked at Delany Fleet.

  The bridge over Back Creek was wide enough for one wagon and a pedestrian path on one side.

  Field offered his arm once more.

  Delany took it.

  “I need to leave soon if our guest speaker was correct.”

  “Your father.”

  “Before I say anymore, I need the truth from you.”

  She halted.

  “I always tell the truth.” She looked down. “Mostly always.” She smiled back at him, an impish look in the silver.

  “Where do you stand on independency?”

  “Until two days ago, I found it a nuisance. Men scrabbling over something that I can’t control. Then someone from the King Fisher fired a musket into the borough.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  She shook her head. “We were told it was an accident. I don’t believe in accidents. It’s time for me to take Ben home.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Princess Anne County.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  They had arrived on Talbot Street and were close to her home.

  “The streets have eyes and ears, Mr. Archer. Would you care for luncheon?”

  Once inside, she escorted him to her library.

  “I am going to join the militia.”

  He laughed out loud at her suggestion. Schoolboys were bigger than the petite woman who barely reached his collar.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” she said pointing a finger at him. “I am a practical woman, Field Archer.” She turned to pace. “I can’t shoot like a foot soldier, but I’m a merchant with a reputation. It may not work for long…”

  “Perhaps we can help each other.”

  She stopped pacing. “How?”

  “I have something that I need to deliver to Williamsburg.”

  “I’m going in the opposite direction.”

  “What I have will help the militia, and the militia can help me get what I have to the right place.”

  “You told me you wanted the truth from me,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Tell me the truth. What is it we are talking about?”

  He hesitated. If he told her the truth, she might refuse to help. If he didn’t, she would refuse to help. In either case, he felt sure she wouldn’t turn him in if only for his mother’s sake.

  “I have four cases of flintlocks.”

  She stiffened, and her eyes glinted.

  “Do you mean to tell me that you have smuggled weapons into my warehouse?” Her voice was dangerously low. “That you put my family in danger without so much as a—a—” She balled her fists and raised them to his chest.

  He stepped back.

  She swung by him and went to the window. She placed one hand on a pane of glass as she struggled for composure.

  Cool guilt snaked his abdomen and squeezed. She was right; he’d had no plan. He had given no thought to his father’s request for weapons. He’d bought them through his London contacts and brought them home.

  “Are you always reckless?” Her voice remained low as she turned toward him.

  “Reckless is not the word I would choose.”

  “What you have done could’ve had monumental consequences for my family if your guns were discovered in my warehouse. Big consequences require well-thought-out plans.” Hands balled into fists shook with restraint at her sides. Silver sparked with fire pierced him.

  “ʽThe wind blows where it listeth…’” he quoted from John’s Gospel. He relaxed his body and raised his hands. “Trust me.”

  She gasped.

  “Trust. You?” Surprised outrage creased her features. A ridiculous laugh escaped her lips and released the tension in her body. Delany took a deep breath. “I’d sooner trust a walking rattlesnake.”

  4

  Delany’s father, James Button, had been the last person to make her angry enough to laugh. It only happened when she was livid, and the tension threatened to break into violence. Then, from somewhere deep within her spirit, laughter would bubble up. Instantaneously, her perspective would change. So it was now.

  They both turned at the soft tap on the door.

  “Luncheon is served,” Mary said.

  Field motioned her forward.

  Delany led the way to the dining room.

  Sarah and Ben had already arrived.

  Once seated, Delany asked Ben to bless the food. Still too tense to eat, Delany took a small portion of chicken pie. Archer’s portion was twice her own. Apparently, arguments didn’t curb his appetite, but he wasn’t unfazed. She watched as he deliberately relaxed his anger-hardened contours before he engaged Ben.

  “Mrs. Tabb is a superior cook,” he said. “This chicken pie is the best I’ve tasted since I’ve been gone.”

  “You should taste her maids-of-honor,” Ben said between mouthfuls. “She always makes them after she makes the apple jelly.”

  “They melt in your mouth,” Sarah added.

  Delany inclined her head in agreement, thankful that calm, dependable Sarah was there to carry the conversation.

  She had told Field of her plan to join the militia not two minutes before he informed her of his flintlocks. It wasn’t the opportunity to help that made her angry. Rather, it was the brazen assumption he could bring smuggled goods to her house. The forcing of her hand. The lack of choice. That made her angry. It was just like Tom, who thought he could do as he wished with her property just because he was her husband. As though she and her father had not worked the seven years to earn the land. Seven years’ work—gone with a name scribbled on a piece of paper that said, “Certificate of Marriage.”

  Never again.

  ‘The wind,’ indeed. Could he not see the fact of the guns in her warehouse made her guilty of smuggling? Lord Dunmore wouldn’t care where they came from—only that they were in her warehouse. And Ben? Was she supposed to move guns with Ben?

  “Is that all right with you, Aunt?”

  Ben’s question brought her back to the table.

  “Is what all right?”

  “After dinner, I’ll show Mr. Archer around town.”

  “Stay away from the waterfront. You don’t know when that fool will start taking pot shots at us.” It would be more than all right to get Field Archer out of her house for a while so she could think how to proceed. “And mind the clouds. It looks like rain.”

  “Keep your eyes about you,” Sarah said. “The streets aren’t as safe as they used to be with the soldiers running around as if they own the place.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Archer said.

  Delany had just retreated to her library after man and boy departed when Sarah entered.

  “I must speak with you.”

  They sat together on the cream sofa by the window that overlooked her garden.

  “Do you care for coffee or chocolate?”

  “Neither.” Sarah slouched back on the couch, hands fisted at her side. “I want a cup of tea!”

  “Don’t we all.” Delany rang for Mary.

  The embargo on tea had been in effect for over a year. There was none to be had in the shops or anywhere else. Except for the one small box Delany had hidden.

  “Mary, please bring a pot of tea for Mrs. Harrison.”

  Mary’s eyes bulged.

  Sarah exhaled loudly. “I’ll have coffee. I don’t think I could take another drop of ‘liber-tea.’”

  Delany reached out and gave a reassuring pat to Sarah’s hand.

  Lightning lit clouds outside the window, and thunder cracked.
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  “My son tells me that he is taking his family away from here to his brother’s farm in Pungo.” The usual calm voice trembled in distress. “He insists that I come with them. He says he will not allow me stay here alone.”

  Mary returned and placed a tea tray laden with a coffeepot, two cups, and an assortment of tea cakes on a nearby table.

  Delany poured a steaming cup for Sarah and one for herself.

  Sarah inhaled the fragrant brew. “Delany Fleet. Where did you get this tea?” She clutched her bosom, her voice a hoarse whisper. “You’re not dealing with smugglers?”

  “Of course not. I find I like my morning chocolate at least as much as I like tea, so I saved it. Don’t get too excited. I don’t have much.”

  Sarah closed her eyes inhaling the smell. Black market, indeed. Delany couldn’t deny a definite pull to trade in much wanted goods no matter where they came from, but that was more danger than she was willing to risk. Oddly enough, it was true. She had grown used to her morning chocolate and hadn’t missed her beloved tea of late. Still, it was a blessing to sit here with her only friend and drink tea as they had so many times in the past.

  “I told George that I was staying with you for as long as Mr. Archer is here.” She took another sip. “I knew he would like the idea that there was a big, strong man around.”

  Delany didn’t want to think about Field Archer being big and strong. The way he filled up a room was positively stifling.

  “We have Ruben. We don’t need to depend on Mr. Archer.”

  Sarah focused her calm blue eyes on Delany. “Yes, but Ruben belongs to Mary.”

  Delany sipped tea and selected a tea cake.

  Sarah’s usual cool voice returned. “It might be time for you to think about marrying again.”