Heirs of Acadia - 02 - The Innocent Libertine

by T. Davis Bunn

  Reginald and Horace exchanged glances. “I gather you’ve discussed the purchase of these coaches?”

  Abe flushed. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds, sir.”

  “You’ve done nothing of the sort. Tell us the rest.”

  “The authorities are now planning to extend the National Road all the way to St. Louis,” Abe continued in a rush. “Nobody has yet to make a bid for carrying the post beyond Wheeling. If we were to make them an offer, agreeing to carry the post as far as the road is open, they would also grant us rights to carry a third of the post destined for Wheeling.”

  “Would they indeed. You’ve been busy, young man.”

  “Miss Abigail helped me, sir.”

  “Of that I have no doubt whatsoever. Our womenfolk have an indisputable amount of strength and wisdom.” His gaze came to rest on Lillian, and then he turned back to the young man. “I suppose there is a bit of bad news.”

  “How—how did you know that, sir?”

  “When you’ve been in business as long as I have, you’ll learn to expect the hidden cost, the unknown roadblocks to success. Go on, out with it.”

  “Well, sir, there are two coaches to be had. And the price is not unreasonable. But there are no horses.”

  “Horses trained to a coach’s tethers we can most certainly obtain,” Horace responded with a firm nod. “Long as our competitors don’t know what we’re about.”

  Abe added, “Nor have I been able to find drivers.”

  Even Lillian understood the significance of this. Coach drivers were a rare breed. With four or sometimes six horses held to a long series of traces, the risks were vastly multiplied. A good driver needed to be able to sense each horse’s mood through the reins and keep them pulling equally. He needed the strength to quiet a restless horse long before panic could cause a tragedy. The worse the condition of the road, the more skills the driver required. A thrown wheel in Indian country could mean the death of everyone on board. Where cities remained few and far between, a driver must also be a skilled carpenter, blacksmith, leather worker, and horse doctor.

  Reginald said, “I assume you have an idea here as well.”

  “Well, sir, that is . . .”

  “Go on, speak up, lad. We’re all on your side here.”

  Lillian shivered and scanned the room. All on your side here. It was true. Despite the worst she had to reveal, despite all the trickery and the falsehoods, still they accepted her. They drew her in as family.

  Abe continued in a rush, “I’ve been taking lessons from the stable where I used to berth. And you and Mr. Cutter both can handle a trace. I’ve seen it. So I was thinking, rather than riding on someone else’s coaches . . .”

  “We take our own and look for drivers out Wheeling way,” Reginald finished. He turned to his partner and asked, “How would you feel about making the journey with us?”

  “Been wondering about that very same thing. If I’m going to invest out that way, I should see the lay of the land for myself.” Horace glanced at Beatrice. “As long as you and the children can do without me for a time.”

  “We shall miss you terribly,” she replied after a moment. “But if you feel it is important, then you shall journey with my blessing.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Horace concluded.

  “We’re bound to find settlers in Wheeling who can handle a full trace,” Reginald continued. “Men willing to be away from home part of each month in return for good hard cash.”

  “We could carry a good deal of the first wares ourselves this way, and have the rest transported by oxen train.”

  “Slower and far cheaper,” Horace agreed. “But if we’re carrying enough to make a start, what difference does it make?”

  Reginald turned to Abe once more. “Does this mean you’d commit to running this as well as our Wheeling company?”

  Abe took time for one hard breath and one long look at Abigail. Lillian followed his eyes. The younger woman’s face shone with such pride and love Lillian wanted to weep with shared joy.

  Abe straightened his shoulders and replied, “Yes, Mr. Lang-ston, sir. I am.”

  “Partners ought to address one another by their given names, Abe.”

  Abe flushed more deeply. He gripped Reginald’s hand, but kept his gaze upon Abigail as he replied, “Partners, yes, Reginald.” He walked across the room. “Horace,” he said and shook the man’s hand.

  Chapter 25

  The adventurers departed at dawn on the following Monday. Their hopes were to arrive at the Harrow home in southwestern Pennsylvania before the next Sabbath. Lillian took great joy in one final church service with old Mr. Cutter. She sang along with the church hymns, but only loud enough for him to hear her voice. It was more than enough.

  The closer they all had come to departure, the faster the world had spun. Such was the pressure to keep to the imposed schedule that none of them slept more than a few hours the last two nights. The group had been working together, both those going and those remaining, and all of them shared tasks and called upon one another without hesitation. Lillian had forged ahead with whatever was set in front of her, including packing bolts of cloth, counting blocks of soap, and checking wares off a long list as Abigail and Erica sorted through piles destined for the later oxcarts. By the time they had left, the travelers were all beyond the point of exhaustion.

  They had elected not to seek additional passengers for the journey, but rather use the extra carriage space for further supplies. Reginald and Abe traveled in one coach with Lillian and Abigail. The one professional driver they had managed to hire was a taciturn older gentleman married to the nanny Erica Powers employed for her daughter. Erica would be accompanied in this second coach by her daughter, Hannah, the nanny, and Horace Cutter. The nanny was a rather colorless lady who spoke scarcely a word to anyone, just like her husband, the driver. When not tending the child, the nanny kept her nose buried in a threadbare copy of Pilgrim’s Progress.

  That first afternoon the two men sat above with the driver while the two women napped inside. They berthed at a roadside inn long after dark and started again soon after dawn. That second morning they fashioned a bed up top so the man not driving could rest within the fencing. The road was very crowded this close to the nation’s capital, but there were laybys every quarter mile, where the slower carts would pull in and allow the faster coaches to speed ahead. That second afternoon it rained so hard they were forced to shut all the windows, and Reginald accepted Abe’s encouragement to retreat inside with the ladies. That night as Abe sat by the tavern’s roaring fire, drying his boots and his oilskin on the back of his chair, he took paper and quill to a list of figures. They had averaged a full eleven miles an hour for the first two days of their journey, he declared. A most remarkable pace, they all agreed.

  For Lillian, banked-up fatigue was joined now with the tiring journey. She rested when she wished. She chatted with Abigail, mostly about lighthearted matters, for Lillian did not wish to speak of the dark cloud she felt still looming over her personal horizon. Abigail also was very weary and clearly in no frame of mind to discuss anything weighty.

  Lillian was seeing the land firsthand out the carriage window as the miles slowly ticked by. The country appeared endless. It was not a matter of traveling out a distance and buying land. The arable lands neighboring Washington were either going at very high prices or already taken. No, the land sale was out West. Lillian had heard people say this any number of times. But only now did she understand what it truly meant.

  On the third morning they crested a rise, and up ahead of them they spotted the first ridgeline of the Appalachians. Reginald explained how they would take the National Road north of the highest peaks, heading through the Pennsylvania farmlands for several more days before entering the steep hills. Lillian saw how the others received the news with equal mixture of excitement and acceptance. She, however, was utterly alarmed and discouraged. The hills rose like blue-tinted walls, barriers she would cross beca
use she had to. Yet on the other side, what then? She listened with a heavy heart as Reginald described more of the landscape and Abe calculated time and distance.

  Lillian turned her face to the window. The forested hillside sloped down to yet another valley, endless land in vast array, stretching out for days and weeks and months. How had she permitted herself to fall in love with a man who would return to his Georgetown life and be lost to her forever? How could she have ever dreamed they might find a way to maintain their romance?

  She was traveling to some western land because she had no choice. And once there, she would say her farewells to this fine man beside her. And he would return to his city, where already her scandals were beginning to be hinted at. Her confessions were not enough to diffuse the tirade of half-truths and bitter denunciations the bankers would send forth. She would make a new life in the distant West beyond these faceless hills. She had no choice in the matter.

  And she would have to do so alone.

  On the fourth morning they shifted positions so that Horace, Reginald, and Abe might travel together and discuss business. Abe took the reins of one coach, sharing the bench with his partners, while the taciturn driver handled the other team. Lillian offered to sit with the nanny and Erica’s slumbering child, insisting that a time alone with her thoughts would do her a world of good.

  For her part, Erica spent the first hour completing work on a journal article. She carried a small wooden case that opened into a lady’s traveling secretary, with a scrolled leather top and compartments for quills and paper and ink. Abigail observed Erica with a strange pleasure. She had known this woman since childhood, most of that time only through letters, yet she felt in some ways she knew Erica not at all. Letters were fine, of course, for Erica was an excellent writer and diligent in maintaining the friendship. Abigail now felt a great sense of ease. She knew Erica cared for her very deeply. She also knew their time together would soon be ended, as they went their separate ways. So what should they talk of ? For a moment Abigail was tempted to bring up the incident in London. Yet something held her back. It took only a moment for her to realize that was the past. What Abigail wanted to address with her oldest friend was who they were now.

  Erica cleared the quill tip and laid it in the recessed cavity. She dusted the ink, set the page onto the pile of completed work, and closed the box. “There has scarce been time to gather my thoughts and keep up with the journaling Gareth asked me to do,” Erica said. “Even with the nanny traveling with us, Hannah demands a great deal of attention.”

  “You two look so lovely and happy together.”

  “She is such a blessing to us both,” Erica said. Merely speaking about her daughter brought a new shine to her eyes. “Gareth and I had to wait so long, we feared we would never have children. We had almost decided God wished for our work and our cause to be the sole bonds between us and Him.”

  “That possibility must have made you awfully sad at times.”

  “Yes, but it also drew me closer not only to Gareth, but also to God and more devoted to our shared work.”

  “The pamphlets and the antislavery movement.”

  “Just so.”

  “What is it like to have such a cause, I wonder?”

  Erica spent several thoughtful minutes finishing latching up her little box and stowing it away. “I would say that it draws me out of my own comfortable and somewhat selfish world more than I should ever have thought possible.”

  Abigail felt the faintest tremor run through her form.

  “It teaches me to care for others, people beyond the reach of my family and comfortable church community. And through this, I have come to care more deeply for our Savior.”

  “How is that, please?”

  “Because I am drawn to care deeply for those that are dear to Him. The voiceless, the infirm, the innocents in chains. I learn through my actions what Jesus meant in His lesson about loving my neighbor, whoever and wherever he might be.”

  Another tremor touched the core of her being, stronger even than the first. “I would so very much like to have such a cause,” Abigail whispered.

  “Then you shall be granted one.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “ ‘The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few,’ ” Erica quoted. “Our Lord will use all who seek to do service, according to His calling.”

  Abigail could hardly contain her enthusiasm and impatience to discover what her calling might be. Erica told her to wait, watch, and pray—it would come.

  Almost a week had passed when they began climbing the hills of southwestern Pennsylvania beneath a clear sky with the air fragrant with autumn’s spices. The coach rocked a good deal more than Lillian’s English carriage and had none of the gloss and ornate grillwork. But it was an extremely sturdy conveyance and remained well balanced even with the mountain of supplies stored up top and strapped to the rear boot. The road had good enough drainage that the previous night’s torrential rain did not slow them down overmuch.

  The villages along the National Road were becoming home to an increasing number of inns. Many of these towns had been founded by religious groups, and many still banned the sale of spirits. It was in such places they intended to overnight, for these were also the safest villages. But their midday halts could not be so well planned. That day, the village where they had hoped to stop contained more than three dozen unlicensed roadside taverns. They were known as tippling inns and already had a notorious reputation. So they halted only long enough to buy fresh bread and continued on to the next lay-by. They picnicked beside one of the whitewashed milestones, a triangular marker noting the distance from Washington on one side and Wheeling on the other.

  As he ate, Abe made hasty calculations and declared, “We’re now making better than twelve miles per hour, despite the train of Conestoga wagons that slowed us just after dawn.”

  “I do wish you would set your work aside for a time,” Abigail complained, only half jokingly. “Your brain needs a rest.”

  “I have never discovered a means by which to turn off my thoughts.” He stopped then, but gave the impression of having more to say.

  “You may finish your thought, Abe,” Abigail invited with a wry look.

  Abe turned red and lowered his voice. “I was going to add, except when I look at you. Then my thinking scatters to the winds!”

  Abigail turned a brighter shade of red than Abe. “Well, thank you, Mr. Childes.”

  Reginald returned from inspecting the horses. One of the men repeated this task every midday and evening, loosening buckles and fitting nosebags. While the speediest coach companies arranged to trade teams at various stages along their journeys, private travelers continued with the same horses for the entire journey.

  “The day looks to be fine,” Reginald said to Lillian. “Would you care to join me up top for the next leg of our journey?”

  Lillian could tell there was something on his mind, but she kept her tone light in the others’ presence. “I should be most pleased,” she responded with a smile.

  “I gather Abe and Miss Abigail shall have no difficulty finding some topic to occupy them in the coach,” Erica noted to kind laughter.

  Reginald scarcely waited until he had tightened the braces and helped Lillian climb on board before saying, “There was something I wanted to speak with you about before we left. But things became awfully busy there toward the end, don’t you know.”

  “I do indeed.” Lillian was feeling very comfortable with this man and no longer felt a need to prepare herself for the worst. Whatever it was, she knew he would only speak with her best interests at heart. “We have scarcely had a single moment these last few days.”

  “Now that I have no reason to hold back, still I find it difficult to speak. But Erica insists I should put this off no longer.”

  Even with such an introduction, Lillian felt no threat. “You trust your sister so. It is a lovely thing to see.”

  “She is as mu
ch the leader of our little company as I— perhaps more. Oh, I manage the day-to-day affairs and take care of all the strenuous work. I always have preferred working with my muscles, over my head.”

  “You will miss her terribly when she goes back to England,” Lillian softly observed.

  “It is something I can scarce think of without very real sorrow,” he said, his voice low.

  “I am certain you will do fine, Reginald. You are a man with far more talent and abilities than you give yourself credit for.”

  “I wish . . .”

  When he did not continue, she urged, “Pray finish that thought, Reginald.”

  Reginald cleared his throat and said, “On the Friday before our departure, I visited with several allies within the Washington community. I explained to them that I was concerned about a possible threat posed by one certain local banker. You know of whom I speak?”

  She sat up straighter. “Of course.”

  “I was joined by Horace, who has once again proven himself to be a staunch friend and ally. We did not explain things fully to the others, of course. Merely that there were matters which we feared might be used in an insulting and untrue fashion.” He kept his eyes upon the road ahead. “Our concerns were apparently well founded.”

  Lillian’s hand rose to her throat. “What did they tell you?”

  “Only that the banker had indeed been making scurrilous references to certain company we kept.” Reginald’s features had taken on an iron cast. “I fear this is not the last we have heard from this scoundrel.”

  “Reginald—”

  “Oh, I know I should have discussed it with you. But I feared you would beg me not to proceed as I have. I could not bear the thought of departing Washington with you so vulnerable. It was a minor matter, but it had to be done. I discussed it with Erica, and she agreed.”

  “It was not minor at all,” Lillian protested.

  “What I meant to say was that I wish I could do more. With the departure looming all I could do was alert our trusted allies to this matter and ask that they speak on our behalf until my return.” He glanced anxiously at her. “Have I made an error?”