My Sister's Prayer

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “You’re late.” A portly man with dark hair and sallow skin stood in front of her. He licked his lips as he took the basket. “Smells good. What is it?”

  “Stew.”

  “Is that all?”

  Celeste shrugged. “Bread too, perhaps.”

  He took the basket from her, pulled off the cloth to look inside, and frowned. “No bread, just stew,” he huffed, tossing the cloth back over the top. “I sure hope Edwards gets that cook back in line. She’s the best around when she wants to be.”

  Celeste didn’t respond.

  The man stepped back and closed the door.

  As Celeste headed down the steps, a voice called out from the area of the courtyard, “Jones! Leave some supper for us. It’s your duty to make sure we’re fed.”

  She stopped by the gate and looked through the bars into the courtyard, where she saw the doors to two holding cells. She darted away quickly, shivering even though it was still muggy and hot, guessing that delivering meals to Constable Jones and the inmates at the jail would be part of her regular routine.

  The sailors and soldiers became unruly as the hours wore on, and finally the innkeeper told Celeste to help Sary finish cleaning the kitchen.

  “Then go to bed, up in the loft,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind sharing sleeping quarters with Sary.”

  “Of course not. My parents taught me that we are all one in Christ Jesus, as it says in Galatians.”

  With a look of relief, Mr. Edwards replied, “Good. I’m hoping Sary will warm up to you. The last maid didn’t speak French, but they roomed together and seemed to get along, at least until…”

  Celeste cocked her head, but the innkeeper didn’t finish his thought. She changed the subject. “Could I write a letter to my parents tonight for Captain Bancroft to deliver?”

  “Paper is expensive,” the innkeeper said. “Perhaps the captain would deliver a verbal message.”

  She approached the captain in the dim light, but she could easily see that he was drunk. Changing her mind, she quickly retreated to the kitchen. An hour later, Celeste followed Sary up the stairs, carrying her bundle that she’d stashed next to some shelves in the kitchen. A breeze blew between two open windows, and the loft wasn’t as hot as she’d feared. Sary immediately collapsed on her pallet. Celeste was too tired to talk anyway, but she was interested in Sary’s story. Perhaps another night when they had energy enough to speak.

  Celeste took off her skirt, stockings, chemise, and stays, then she pulled her pouch out from under her petticoat and tucked it below her pallet. She didn’t think anyone would steal it, but she couldn’t take a chance. It held everything she had of any value—the ring and brooch and a little money. She would tie it back around her waist in the morning.

  She slipped out of her petticoat and collapsed onto the cot wearing only her shift. She’d never worked so hard in her life. Jonathan had to return soon.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Celeste

  The swish of a skirt near her head woke Celeste. Sary headed for the ladder. A bird sang outside, and the first rays of light streamed through the open window. Surely they weren’t required to rise at dawn after going to bed past midnight.

  “Now?” Celeste asked in English and then quickly translated. “Maintenant?”

  “Oui,” Sary answered as her head disappeared.

  Celeste stood slowly, thankful for the cool breeze. In the corner, on a crate, stood a pitcher and basin on a small table. Sary must have fetched the water already, or else someone else brought it up. Celeste washed her hands and face and dressed quickly. Then she wrapped the strings of the pouch around her waist, tying them tightly before tucking the pouch between her petticoat and shift. As she slipped her feet into her shoes, she realized they were falling apart after yesterday’s walk. She had no money to replace them. Slowly she descended the ladder.

  The fire had already been built up, and an African boy of about twelve poured water from a bucket into a pot, the one Celeste had cleaned stew from the night before. She introduced herself to the boy in English. He kept his head bowed but said his name was Benjamin. Sary picked up a bag filled with some sort of grain—it was yellow like the kernels from the night before.

  In French, Celeste asked Sary if she had a piece of paper and a quill she could use. The woman shook her head. “What do you need?” the boy asked in English.

  Celeste explained that she wanted to write home and then said, “I can pay a small amount if you can find me paper and ink.” She fished a coin from her pouch and handed it to him.

  “I’ll be back.” He took the bucket with him.

  Sary stirred the grain into the water, and Celeste began placing bowls on the table to be filled. She couldn’t imagine the sailors up so early. She hoped she would have time to write the letter and get it to Captain Bancroft before he left for his ship.

  Sary took two teapots from the shelves. A few minutes later a bleary-eyed and unshaven Mr. Edwards entered the kitchen with two pitchers from the night before in his hands. “Good day to you,” he said to both women. “The sailors are clamoring for food.” He put the pitchers on the table and then looked directly at Celeste and then the porridge.

  His face fell. “Why isn’t Sary cooking eggs?”

  Celeste asked the woman.

  She shrugged and in French answered that there weren’t enough, according to Benjamin. “The hens must be upset,” she added as she started ladling porridge into bowls. Mr. Edwards appeared frustrated but didn’t challenge the explanation.

  He shuffled over to the spice cupboard by the shelves. He took out a key, unlocked the door, and removed a white canister, which Celeste guessed was tea. There were other canisters in the cupboard, probably for sugar and salt and other spices. There was also a medium-sized crock, which Celeste guessed was full of honey. Her parents kept tea, spices, and sweeteners in a locked cupboard too.

  Mr. Edwards measured tea into each pot on the table, and then Sary dipped boiling water out of the cauldron and poured it into the pots. Once she was finished, she pushed them to the middle of the table to let them steep while Mr. Edwards returned the tea and relocked the cupboard. Then he wrapped a rag around the handles of each teapot, lifted them off the table, and left the kitchen. It seemed to be a ritual that was probably repeated every morning. Back home, they made the tea in the dining room.

  Benjamin returned a few minutes later with the supplies she needed. The paper was crude and the ink was thick, but Celeste did her best to scratch out a letter. She simply wrote that she and Berta were both safe and she was sorry for acting out of character, but she loved Jonathan and planned to make a life with him. She didn’t have time to explain about Berta, how she’d been abducted and forced aboard against her will, so for now she would just have to let her parents assume that the two girls had fled together. She would add more details in the next letter.

  At the bottom, she signed her name. To add “Your loving daughter” above that seemed incongruous. She put aside her quill and spread sand over the paper, let it rest, then dumped it into the fireplace. Next, she folded the paper, wrote her father’s full name followed by the words London Gazette on the front and repeated the process with a little more sand. After the ink had dried, she lit a candle and sealed the paper as best she could by pressing a spoon into the dripping wax.

  Celeste tucked the letter into the waistband of her skirt, grabbed a tray, loaded the bowls, and headed out the door. She struggled to balance the tray as she climbed the stairs to the inn and then tilted it slightly to get through the door. Once inside, she looked for Captain Bancroft but couldn’t find him. She passed out the bowls to the men around the table, many of whom already had a small cup of tea.

  The second time Celeste entered with another tray of the porridge, Captain Bancroft was seated at the table with his first mate. Thankfully, Mr. Edwards was back in the kitchen. Celeste pulled out the letter. His eyes grew large. “My, you are resourceful, aren’t you?”

 
; “I try to be,” she answered. “Remember, this is for Mr. Talbot at the London Gazette.”

  First Mate Hayes reached for the letter. “I can deliver it when I place the advertisement for our next voyage.”

  Celeste glanced at the captain. He shrugged. “Very well.”

  She surrendered the letter. The captain had so much to attend to. Hayes probably would have more time to make such a delivery. After offering her thanks and a curtsy, Celeste hurried back to the kitchen to retrieve yet another tray of food.

  She had returned to the inn and was just about to go through the door when she heard a familiar voice.

  She froze. Jonathan?

  Juggling the tray awkwardly, she twisted to one side and peeked through the door, her heart filling with joy and relief as she spotted her beloved in his uniform. He looked as tall, handsome, and impressive as ever as he moved toward Captain Bancroft.

  “I was afraid I’d miss you.” The captain rose to shake Jonathan’s hand. Lowering their voices, the two men began to converse, though Celeste could no longer hear their words.

  As excited as she was to see Jonathan at last, she found herself faltering, stunned at how casually the two men were interacting.

  They know each other?

  She hesitated, confused, her mind racing. Why hadn’t the captain said as much during one of their conversations? All those times she’d gone on about her betrothed, Lieutenant Jonathan Gray, never once had the captain said, “Oh, yes. I’m acquainted with the man. In fact, we’re friends.” Then again, knowing now what a small place Williamsburg was, it didn’t surprise her that the two were acquainted.

  Heart pounding, she moved through the doorway, the tray still in hand. But in her eagerness she stepped too quickly and tilted the tray too far to one side. Immediately, the bowls began sliding away from her. Coming fully into the room, she managed to right the tray—only to have the bowls slide in the other direction, toward her. Before she could do a thing, one slid right off and landed on her shoulder, splattering porridge all over her and the floor. Another bowl followed and another until the tray was empty.

  Mortified, she didn’t even glance Jonathan’s way. Instead, she just fell to her knees and began gathering the bowls. By the time she stood, every eye in the room was on her.

  “Foolish girl.” Mr. Edwards’s face had turned red, but his voice was surprisingly calm.

  Swallowing her pride, Celeste glanced at Jonathan. His blue eyes were as vivid as ever, but his face had grown pale. “Celeste! What…what are you doing here?”

  “Mr. Edwards bought my contract.”

  He opened his mouth, but no further words came out.

  In that moment she wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, but she knew it wouldn’t be proper—not to mention that she was covered in porridge. Instead, she just gave him a meaningful look and tilted her head toward the side, as if to say, Meet me out back, where we can share a proper greeting in private.

  But first she had to clean up the mess she’d made in the dining room. Moving as quickly as possible, she deposited the bowls and tray in the kitchen, grabbed a bucket of water and a rag, and then ran back toward the inn, brushing away clumps of porridge from her hair and clothes as she went.

  By the time she got to the dining room, rag and bucket in hand, Jonathan was already gone. Panic rising in her throat, hoping he would know to wait, she worked as fast as she could, scrubbing furiously. Once she’d finished, she hurried out back, but he was nowhere to be seen. Confused, she flung the dirty water onto the ground and stepped around the side of the inn, looking out toward the street.

  There he was, on the other side of the fence, near the bench.

  Unfortunately, Captain Bancroft was with him, the two men deep in conversation. No doubt, the captain was explaining the situation with Berta.

  Celeste placed her bucket and rag on the ground and hurried around the fence toward them.

  As Jonathan turned, Captain Bancroft bowed. “Miss Talbot. Lieutenant Gray. I’ll leave the two of you to speak in private.”

  Looking up into Jonathan’s blue eyes, Celeste hoped for a kiss—even a hug. She needed some sign of his affection. She stepped closer, but he didn’t reach for her. Or bend his head to kiss her. He wouldn’t even meet her gaze.

  “The captain explained what happened.”

  “Do you two know each other?” Celeste asked.

  Jonathan’s face reddened. “He introduced himself just this morning.” He cleared his throat, still not meeting her eyes. “Did Berta say why she followed you onto the ship?”

  Crestfallen, Celeste answered. “She didn’t come of her own free will. She was abducted and forced aboard.”

  He exhaled. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Celeste shook her head. “We have no idea. Once you buy our contracts, we can figure out a plan.” She hoped Jonathan could settle things with Mr. Edwards immediately. She didn’t want to have to endure another minute of servitude. Then, as soon as he did, they could head to Norfolk together and rescue her sister.

  His face grew red. “About your contract…I wasn’t able to save the money I’d planned to.”

  “I thought you already had the money.” She couldn’t be certain of his finances. At times it seemed his family had lost everything, but at others it seemed he had some funds tucked away.

  “I had expenses…”

  Mr. Edwards stepped around the side of the inn. “What’s going on?” He seemed more confused than angry. “Miss Talbot. Why aren’t you working?”

  “We were discussing Lieutenant Gray’s plan to buy my contract from you.”

  “Who said it’s for sale?”

  Celeste’s hand went to her throat. Surely the man would allow it once Jonathan had the money. And she hoped that would be soon.

  Mr. Edwards turned toward Jonathan. “You can afford to hire any maid for your new house. I don’t know why you’d want this one. She’s clumsy.”

  “Maid?” Celeste stuttered. “No, we’re betrothed.”

  Mr. Edwards’s eyes narrowed. He shook his head. “Miss Talbot,” he said. “Please get back to work.”

  “Please, sir, with your permission, I need another moment.” She turned quickly before Mr. Edwards could reply. “J-Jonathan,” she stuttered. “Explain who I am to you—”

  “Some complications have arisen.” He kept his voice low. “We need to talk this through, Celeste, but not now.”

  She swallowed hard. “When can we talk?”

  “Soon.”

  “Miss Talbot, I need you to finish serving breakfast.” Mr. Edwards’s voice was firm. “No matter what’s going on between the two of you, I bought your indenture. You need to uphold your end of the bargain.”

  She knew he was right. She gave Jonathan one last look. He frowned and turned away. Her stomach fell. This wasn’t the man who had vowed to love her forever. Who had begged her to follow him to America.

  She stumbled off as Mr. Edwards demanded, “What did you promise the girl?”

  Celeste stopped and turned, wanting to hear Jonathan’s reply. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he simply left, marching toward the town square as the rat-a-tat of the snare drums started up again.

  The beat heightened her anxiety. She swallowed, trying to calm herself even as her fears grew in intensity, along with the drumming.

  Not until breakfast was finished and the crowd was gone did Mr. Edwards see to Celeste’s clothing situation. He appeared at the kitchen proffering a skirt, chemise, cap, petticoat, shift, apron, and straw hat. They weren’t new, but at least they were clean and pressed.

  “After you change, go down to the cobbler and get fitted for a pair of boots,” he said. “You’ll need them by the time winter arrives. The shop is across from the square.”

  She bit her tongue to keep from responding that she wouldn’t be in his service by then. Somehow Jonathan would find a way to make all of this right. He’d promised her on his life that he loved her and would care for her
, always.

  “Put your dirty clothes in the laundry house. The housemaid will get started on them soon.”

  She thanked Mr. Edwards and hurried up the ladder. Once she had completely stripped, she scrubbed herself as best she could with the lukewarm water. When she was dressed, her pouch tucked inside the clean petticoat, she carried the pile of dirty clothes to the laundry house and then headed down the street to the cobbler, hoping she would see Jonathan again.

  None of the soldiers were in sight. Or the sailors. It seemed Captain Bancroft and his crew had returned to the Royal Mary. She prayed that Hayes would actually deliver her letter. A wave of grief swept over her at the thought of her family. How could she have decided so carelessly to leave them forever?

  After the cobbler fitted her feet, she waited for a moment in the street, looking in every direction for Jonathan again. Dejected, she turned back toward the inn when someone called out her name.

  She stopped.

  “Celeste!” It wasn’t Jonathan. It was Spenser in a wagon filled with furniture. Two horses pulled the load.

  She waved and hurried toward him.

  “I’m headed to the barracks,” he said. “I thought I’d ask about Jonathan.”

  “I saw him this morning.”

  He leaned toward her as he grasped the reins. “He already bought your contract, then?”

  Celeste wrinkled her nose. “We didn’t have a chance to speak for long. We still need to sort things out.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I thought the new clothes meant your new life had begun.”

  “These are just work clothes from Mr. Edwards.” She looked down at her apron. They were the simplest she’d ever owned. “I’d better get back.”

  Spenser sat up straight. “It’s good to see you.”

  She nodded in agreement and then bid him farewell. She moved quickly down the street, knowing Sary needed her help.

  Once she arrived, Mr. Edwards instructed Celeste to tell Sary to fix the rest of the venison into another stew and make sure not to burn the bread. It took several minutes for Celeste to find Sary, who was in the drying shed, hanging fresh herbs.