“We need to set up priorities at once,” Mr. John said. “Plan. I’ll hire some men to do patrols on the grounds.”
“Thank you for the milk, Brigit.” Duncan took his glass.
Mr. John continued. “I expect our vessels to be conscripted right away. Supplies are of the utmost—”
Duncan lifted his chin at a self-assured angle and spoke in an uncustomarily sharp tone, “We’ll have Goodhew summon you if we need anything, Brigit.”
“Very well.”
She gladly left the library. Whatever the two men were discussing, it should be between only them. The very fact that they were holding this private meeting underscored the importance of discretion, and Brigit felt horribly intrusive standing there. Servants were supposed to be invisible and silent—but she’d been out of place when the men so obviously wished to hash out this business.
“Back so soon?” Trudy simpered once Brigit reached the kitchen. “Don’t you know to stay and clear away? Men don’t take long to eat.”
Jealousy dripped off each word, and Brigit decided to put Trudy’s fear to rest. “That may be, but Duncan dismissed me. I’ll just have to go back later.”
Later. Hopefully much later—after the men had finished and left the library. Brigit felt completely unsettled. Memories flooded back of so many evenings of similar conversations filled with concerns and burdens her parents had held. Lord, whatever is weighing on the hearts of those men, please help them carry the load.
“It’s heating up and will hit boiling point all too soon.” Duncan set down his fork. “I’m striving to stay impartial in public.”
John nodded. “There comes a point when a man has to stand up and be counted. When the time arrives, we’ll not be silent. Until then, we have to set priorities and keep as neutral as possible.”
“I’m thinking of protection.”
“As am I.” John took a gulp of coffee and grimaced. “Cook must’ve measured the coffee wrong. This stuff is so weak, it needs crutches. Why did you have that maid leave?”
Because she looked worried and pale. Brigit’s normally been bright as a copper penny, but she wasn’t tonight. Pushing that cart in here, she was the cheerful-hearted lass I’ve become accustomed to seeing; but within seconds she changed. She’s perceptive, and she sensed the ugliness of what we’re discussing. She gave us a trapped look, and tears filled her eyes—I wanted to spare the lass. It all sounded so melodramatic. Duncan hitched a shoulder. “We have no reason to think she’s untrustworthy. I prefer to have no one privy to our conversation though.” He paused, then tacked on, “Women ought not be burdened with such dark matters anyway.”
“True enough. So as for protection—I want to purchase guns. Several of them.”
“And you don’t think that will raise suspicions?”
John grinned. “It’s customary to give gifts at the boat’s christening. We can order a goodly number of navy Colts and present them to Old Kemper and several of the other men. No one is going to keep a precise count, so we’ll be able to keep a reasonable stash here.”
“What about Timothy and Titus learning some marksmanship?” Duncan chuckled at the memory of the horrendous fuss his sister had kicked up the first time she learned John had taken him out to do some target practice. “Do you think Em will allow it?”
“While you were away on your last voyage, I went down to the caretaker’s cottage to talk to your father. He and I have been working on Emily a bit at a time—dropping hints so she could grow accustomed to the notion. At first she pitched a fit, but she’s had a chance to let the idea sink in.”
“I could tell her a Colt is more manageable and accurate for the boys. Safer by far, too.” A distinct memory of that first time he’d fired John’s rifle flitted through Duncan’s mind, and he winced at it. “The kick from a rifle would knock them over.”
“Your father sneaked Tim off a few weeks ago and let him discover that fact firsthand.” John unconsciously rubbed his right collarbone. “I smuggled Tim some liniment that night to lessen the bruise, but he sported an impressive one.”
“Gunpowder and bullets—what is your plan about those?”
The men talked long into the night—making plans and setting priorities. If war didn’t occur, they’d easily use all the supplies in the course of time. If matters continued down the road of doom Duncan predicted, they’d need every last bit.
Aye, that was the sickening part of it all. The United States looked as if they weren’t long to remain united. In a war, the North and the South would surely inflict wounds that would be slow to heal. With Virginia counting itself as the South and participating in the Southern economy, it would be doubly difficult since the capital was right there. This region would be in the middle of the skirmishes.
In the event of a war, Newcomb Shipping would be an immediate target for the factions. Each side would want to lay claim to the vessels. The very thought that the vessels they used only for peace would be conscripted for war left both men cold. By loading half the ships and setting up long-term voyages and trade agreements, John planned to keep a good part of the fleet out of the fray. His strategy ought to work well enough to keep them from being party to a good portion of the predicted violence.
John drummed his fingers on the table. “How do you stand, if it comes to fighting?”
Chapter 9
Duncan stared him directly in the eye. “I’m not eager to take a life; but if it comes to the point that we go to war, I’d represent our family. I want you to stay out of the fray. Em and the children need you too much.” Duncan didn’t want John to give him any grief over that assertion, so he smoothly changed the direction of the conversation. “Have you thought about what you want to do with the family? Will you keep them here since we were discussing firearms earlier?”
John shook his head. “It’s one of the reasons I’m sending the boys with you to Massachusetts on this next voyage. It’ll give you a good reason to drop in on my aunt. Discuss the matter with her. If she’s amenable, I’ll have Emily and the children stay with her for a season or two until the danger passes.”
“You think Em will go for that?”
“She’ll battle me.” John wiped his mouth. “But Em loves the children, and in the end that will tip the balance in my favor. She’d do whatever is necessary to keep them safe.”
Duncan absently swirled his glass until the milk turned into a whirlpool. “No matter whether you have a Northern or a Southern sympathizer, everyone is sure that if it comes to a battle, the whole matter will be over in a few months.”
“We can only pray if it comes to that point that they’re right. Now let’s determine what supplies to stock up on and how to go about it.”
Plans. They made their plans in seclusion over a fine meal and by a warm fire. Detail after detail needed consideration. The very next morning both men started to carry them out. Within days Duncan was glad they’d buckled down right away. Events around him made it abundantly clear they had assessed the political situation all too accurately. The nation was teetering on the precipice of civil unrest.
“Hey—did you read the article in The Spectator about Yancey’s speech?” the sailmaker asked as Duncan inspected the cloth he proposed to use. “It says here, ‘As a declaimer and specious reasoner, he has few superiors. As an ingenious debater, seeking to place fairly and frankly before the country a faithful record of facts and an incontrovertible accumulation of unimpeachable testimony, he was, in his effort of Wednesday, totally and painfully deficient.’”
“Hmm.” Duncan tested the thickness of the fabric and frowned.
“Are you unhappy with the editor’s opinion or with my goods?”
“I was considering having you make an extra set of sails to keep on hand. The last storm cost us dearly, and ‘twould be wise for me to place an order.” Duncan rapped his knuckles against the cutting table. “You can deliver them as you make them.”
“Yes, I believe I could work in your order.”
“Fine. Draw up the order and have the papers delivered. John or I will sign them and send a deposit. John may wish to order additional single sails or cloth. Be sure to include pricing.”
The sailmaker couldn’t hide his greedy smile. “Of course. Of course. I’ll be right on that.”
“Excellent.” Duncan made a speedy exit and silently congratulated himself. He’d managed to tend to yet another of the priorities he and John agreed upon. If, indeed, war came, Newcomb Shipping needed to be wholly independent. Even if it meant sending some of the ships off on extended voyages to safeguard their fleet, they’d be able to do so if he and John continued to split these meetings and make acquisitions without raising any suspicions.
If anything, the fact that his own vessel was in the works made it that much easier. Each time he placed an order, merchants presumed he was fussing over his “baby.” He could, in all honesty, confess that to be true. He did attend to each and every last detail. ‘Twas no lie, and he held no shame for that fact. A ship carried souls across the unforgiving ocean; and the least little mishap, miscalculation, or mistake could be disastrous. He freely said as much, too. Everyone promptly agreed—some out of wisdom, others out of greed. Nonetheless, it allowed him to place an order for half again as much lumber because he’d nearly run out, for twice as much hemp rope, and for a full ton of iron for his blacksmith to make fittings.
The next day Duncan came down to breakfast and was asked to drop Emily and the children off at the shore. John and Emily decided since the weather was turning and today looked to be fair, the children would do well to have a nice outing. Though John said nothing, Duncan fully understood his motive. If things settled down after the election, the children’s trip to the shore would still be a fun time; if politics got ugly and the Newcombs decided to take the children away, they’d have a fond memory.
Emily left the breakfast table claiming she wasn’t feeling well. Before she left, Emily asked Brigit to fill in and supervise the outing. According to plan, Duncan would leave her and the children at the shore, where they’d hunt for shells and enjoy a picnic. He’d simply pick them up a few hours later, after he conferred about his new vessel and booked cargo for the upcoming voyage.
Seven children, a dog, a blanket, art supplies, and a picnic basket took up the entire back of the wagon. Brigit turned three shades of pink when Duncan said she’d have to ride up on the bench seat with him. That very fact charmed him—it also made him decide he’d not allow her to trade places with Anna Kathleen, as she started to suggest. She might well be in charge of the children, but he was in charge of the outing.
“You’re a quiet one,” he said after they’d traveled down the road a ways and she’d not said a single word.
She shot him a nervous smile. “It’s kind of you to drive us to the beach.”
He tilted back his head and chortled. “Brigit, you might think I’m the worst kind of cad by the time I come to reclaim you. I’m stranding you with a wild tribe.”
“But the day is lovely. We’ve sun to keep us warm, plenty of room to romp, and enough food to feed the town.”
Once he selected a spot and stopped the wagon, Duncan hopped down, then reached up to assist Brigit. His hands spanned her tiny waist quite easily. Once more he appreciated how gracefully she moved. She thanked him prettily, and yet again he noticed her speech and conduct seemed far too refined for a simple housemaid. If Emily wouldn’t make rash assumptions, he’d ask her about Brigit’s family and background. As it was, he didn’t dare. Satisfying that idle flash of curiosity would tilt Emily back into her matchmaking mode.
“Titus, you carry the blanket,” Brigit said as she took visual inventory of the supplies. “Timothy, you’re the strongest. I’ll ask ye to carry the picnic hamper. Lily, be a dear and carry the wee crate with our paints and such. Yes, there you have it. Phillip, I’m trusting you to keep hold of Barkie’s leash. Anna Kathleen—the twins will be yours and mine. I fear ’twill take the both of us to keep them in line.”
Duncan stood back and watched. Brigit organized the children in short order. Instead of running off willy-nilly, they listened and obeyed. He helped settle them, then promised to return later.
Timothy and Titus swam like fish. So did Barkie. Duncan barely reached the shipyard ere he realized he’d not ascertained whether Brigit could. Not a one of the girls could swim a stroke, and Phillip wasn’t any more accomplished than they. He should have given stern warning to the children that they weren’t to get wet. What if one of them got overeager, went out, and—
John slapped him on the shoulder, jarring him from his concerns. “Wait until you see your cabin. The fittings are in.”
“Yes. Um, John—can Brigit swim?”
John nodded. “Em asked her.”
“Good. Good.” But what use was the skill when Brigit’s skirt used a full five yards and she undoubtedly wore the customary three layers of petticoats beneath that? Sodden skirts like that would work like an anchor.
“Franklin arranged for an entire load of cotton for Massachusetts, and the Cormorant is ready to set sail, but Josiah’s taken ill.”
Duncan glanced over at the vessel and nodded. “I can make the run.”
“I hoped you’d volunteer. The delivery’s set for the Boott Mills in Lowell.” John batted away a pesky gnat. “I’ve talked Em into letting you take Timothy and Titus along on the next voyage—but this trip is unscheduled. If you’d rather pass or handle just one of the boys, I’ll certainly understand.”
“It’s good news all around. My cabin’s together, Franklin closed a deal and saved us time, and the boys are to get their feet wet.” Duncan shook back a stubborn, curly lock of hair that the wind kept flinging down his forehead. “It’s no trouble for me to take both. Tim might have wanted to be alone for his first voyage, but I’m thinking Titus will keep him good company.”
John squinted at the rigging of a nearby vessel. “Aye, there’s that.”
Duncan dropped his tone. “And they need to meet relatives up North. If your plan becomes necessary, they’ll do better if they’re familiar with the new surroundings.”
“Go on—see your vessel, and pick up the children afterward.” Worry lined John’s face. “Wind’s taking on a bite to it, and I don’t want them catching whatever Emily’s come down with.”
“Brigit, I need to pack the boys’ bags for their voyage.”
Brigit stood up so quickly that she banged her shoulder on the banister she’d been polishing. “When?”
“Now. Duncan just told me the captain of the Cormorant is sick, so he’s taking the helm. The boys will be going with him. Have Trudy and Fiona finish polishing the wood, and you come help me.”
“Yes ma’am.” Brigit washed her hands and passed on Miss Emily’s instructions to the other maids, then went upstairs to join her. She found Miss Emily standing by the wardrobe in the boys’ room. She had one hand braced against it for support. Brigit hurried to her side. “Miss Emily, you’re white as a cloud. We’d best tuck you in bed straightaway.”
“I’ll lie on one of the beds and supervise; you can put everything in their valises. The laundry’s fresh and ready so you can pack it now, and the boys can wear what they have on today when they board in the morning.”
“Sure as can be, God must be smiling down on this plan for all to be ready like that.”
Miss Emily settled onto the mattress and gave her a weak smile. “I like the way you think, lassie.”
“Why don’t I borrow a blanket off this other bed—”
“Stop fussing. We have work enough to do.” Miss Emily closed her eyes and started to list the items they would need. “Two good shirts for when they’re in Massachusetts. Two of the old ones to wear at sea …”
As Brigit carefully folded each garment and layered them into the boys’ bags, she decided not to trouble Miss Emily with the details. A quick look through drawers and the wardrobe provided most of what they needed, and the rest of their necessities lay on the
washstand.
Emily wiggled on the bed and let out a resigned little sound. “Poor John and Duncan. Most men are tense, what with worrying about the future of our nation. Feelings run high about such matters. John says he hopes once the election is over, things will settle down.”
“That would be a pure blessing indeed.”
“Brigit, I hope for miracles from God, not from man. John and Duncan are up to too much at the shipyard and spending too much time talking to each other in low tones.”
“Is that what’s wrong? Have you been worrying yourself sick?”
“What turns my stomach is that Newcomb ships have always been used for peaceful commerce. Even when others transported slaves, the Newcombs refused to make money in such a dreadful manner. John and Duncan fear that if war comes, the ships will be conscripted and fitted with cannons.”
Brigit shook her head as she latched the valises. “There’s a sorrowful thought.”
“Duncan’s been cantankerous as a shark with a toothache, but it’s my fault for making this trip home so miserable for him. He’s normally quite charming, and I hoped to help him settle down. You might have noticed I invited a few young ladies over.”
Brigit compressed her lips to keep from laughing at that understatement.
“It seems I didn’t spark a match; I sparked his temper.”
“I’m sure it’s not just that one thing.” Brigit tried to watch her words. “Your brother must know you love him very much.”
Emily sat up and grasped the covers on either side of her hips. “Ohh.”
Brigit reached out and steadied her. “Perhaps you ought to lie back down.”
Rubbing her fingertips across her much-too-pale forehead, Miss Emily said in a faint tone, “I planned to handle preparing Duncan’s things myself. I don’t think I’d better. Please, will you do me the favor of packing for him?”
“Of course I will.” Brigit took Miss Emily’s arm. Miss Emily steered them into Duncan’s chamber and promptly melted onto his bed.
Brides of Virginia Page 22
