by P. N. Elrod
I picked up the bloodsmell right away, but ignored it. “What’s she done?”
“It’s what she says, though she says it in the nicest way possible. I’d managed to forget about it until now.”
But not very well, since I’d noticed something wasn’t quite right with her. “Tell me.”
Elizabeth stopped sewing and heaved a great sigh. “It was this afternoon when we were receiving some of Mother’s cronies. Even if she doesn’t look at me if she can help it, I had to be there. It’s usually bearable, but Mrs. Hardinbrook had her head together with that awful cat, Mrs. Osburn. She spoke just loud enough for me to hear, but not enough so that I could really make a comment about it. You know how they—”
“Yes, I’ve seen it in practice. Go on.”
“She was all pleasantries about me, but what she was saying was still full of spite.”
“What did she say?”
“Well, it was about how lucky I was that Lord James had picked me. So very lucky that I hadn’t ended up an old maid, after all. And how good it was that I had a sufficient fortune for a dowry. You’d think that James and I hadn’t come to our determination together at all or that he’d taken pity on me or something.”
“The bitch,” I said evenly.
“Then she started going on about all the money he’d come into once we were married and as much as implied that that was why he’d proposed. They laughed about it, because she’d make a joke of it, but it wasn’t nice laughter. I looked at her to let her know I’d heard, and all she did was smile back, pretending otherwise. How I hate her.”
“She’s a fool, definitely, and not worth your notice.”
“I try to think that, but it’s hard. I don’t know how a person can go to church every Sunday, appear to listen to the sermons so closely and then act as she does. It’s wicked.”
“The more so because she knows what she’s doing to you.”
Elizabeth’s lips came together a moment and there was an excess of water in her eyes. “You don’t know about this, but when you came home hurt from Mrs. Montagu’s . . . .”
“What?”
“Well, I overheard that beastly creature asking our mother who would get your share of Grandfather’s estate should something happen to you.”
That left me stunned at the bad manners and worse timing, but not surprised. Deborah Hardinbrook could be nearly as rapacious as Lieutenant Nash.
“I—damnation—I’m finding myself cringing inside like a child whenever I see her, waiting for the next bit of poison to come spewing forth. Sometimes I know what she’s going to say next and then she says it, as though she’s hearing my thoughts. I don’t know how Dr. Beldon puts up with her. Sometimes all I want to do is. . . .” One of her hands formed into a fist, then she let it relax. “But if I did that then I’d feel awful afterward.”
“Not nearly so awful as Mrs. Hardinbrook. She’d feel much worse.” She glanced up, her eyes slowly kindling with the beginnings of a smile. “You think so?”
“Oh, yes. She’d feel terrible. Can you imagine her consternation trying to cover the bruises with rice flour? There wouldn’t be enough on the Island to do a proper job of it. You are quite the firebrand, dear sister.”
Elizabeth fell into my humor, speculating, “I could black her eye . . . .”
“Knock out a tooth or two in the front . . . .”
“Cut her hair and throw her wigs down the well . . . .”
“I wouldn’t go that far, it’d foul the water.”
By then Elizabeth was laughing freely and when it had worn itself out, I saw that her usual good spirits had reasserted themselves.
“There,” I said. “The next time you see her, try thinking of her as looking like that, toothless, bald, and bloodied. She’ll go mad trying to figure out what’s amusing you so much.”
“I don’t know how I shall manage without you, little brother.”
“You won’t be living that far away. I shall visit so often, you and James will be sick of seeing my face.”
“Never.” She went back to sewing again. “But I know that things will change. They always do when someone gets married. I’ve seen it happen to my friends, how they break away and move on like leaves dropping from a tree. The wind catches them up and off they go. I shouldn’t like that.”
“Then make sure James knows and perhaps you can avoid it.”
“I can tell him, but there are some things that can’t be avoided. You know he’s talked about taking me to England. We’ll probably even stay there. I might never see you or Father ever again.” She looked in danger of tears.
“You can always call off the wedding.”
The danger instantly passed. “I can’t do that!”
“Well, then.” I spread my hands.
She made a kind of growling sigh. “All right. Perhaps I am getting nervous.
“You’ve every right to be considering what you’re taking on. It’s not only getting married, but setting up your own household, getting the servants to work together . . . .”
She nearly shuddered. “I can handle the ones I engage well enough, but that Harridge fellow makes me feel as though I should curtsy every time he walks into the room.”
In the front hall or the servants’ hall, Norwood’s valet was not a popular man.
“He’s going to be a perfect ogre to the others, I know it,” she said.
“Keep him busy enough with duties and maybe he won’t have the time for it. That should be easy with all the work to be done in the new house.”
She muttered a guarded agreement, but I could see the reminder of what was to come had been a cheering one. She was looking forward to setting up her own home.
By some miracle Norwood had found a suitable dwelling halfway between Glenbriar and Glenbriar Landing and had rented it, calling it their “nuptial cottage.” The miracle had been finding anything at all. By now Long Island was not only flooded with soldiers, but with prisoners of war, and all of them in need of lodging. I suspected that Norwood had used his own kind of influence to secure it, trading on his title as much and as often as possible.
It was no vast hall, but certainly much more than a hovel, having belonged to a gentleman who had had the misfortune of being home when the overly-zealous Colonel Heard and his troop of traitors had come calling over a year ago. Heard had already been to Hempstead hell-bent on extracting oaths of loyalty for his American “congress.” Father had been caught up in that farce himself and had managed to shrug it off, but this other gentleman had not. Keenly feeling the humiliation of being forced to take an oath to support an illegal government he’d neither voted for or wanted, he’d put his place up for sale and packed his family off to Canada that summer—just before Lord Howe’s arrival.
The house stood empty for only as long as it took for some officers to claim it and move in, and being gentlemen, they hadn’t the faintest idea how to organize anything of a domestic nature. It became run-down, very quickly, enough so that any prospective buyer would turn away before passing through the gate. The officers had long moved out, following Lord Howe to New York. With no owner present and the agent for the sale desperate for any kind of money, he’d been most eager to agree to the pittance Norwood offered in the way of rent. His lordship pointed out, quite correctly, that the house needed repairs and the only other likely occupants would be prisoners or troops with little or no money at all. An agreement was made, and Norwood and his bride would soon take up residence.
Far too soon for me. I would miss my sister very much, far more than when I’d been packed off to Cambridge. It didn’t matter that she’d be living only a couple of miles away; things would change between us.
I supposed that it would be easier if I liked Norwood better, but that business about Molly had infused me with a difficult to overcome prejudice. For Elizabeth’s sake I’d tried not to let
it bother me and had been fairly successful. Time would inform me on whether I could maintain the attitude with any degree of sincerity.
“You’re quiet again,” she said.
Time to make an effort, I thought, and assumed a sadly serious face. “Well, I . . . had a question for you.”
She caught my tone and put aside the sewing once more, giving me all her attention and bracing herself for whatever was to come.
“Tell me, when you write letters will you sign yourself ‘Elizabeth’ or ‘Lady James Norwood’?”
She cheerfully threw her thimble at me.
* * *
The spring lambing had been good, despite the best efforts by the army commissary, and it looked like we’d be having if not a profitable year, then at least a comfortable one. Nash kept himself busy, ranging farther afield searching out the Island’s bounty, but under my “tutelage” he’d turned into quite an honest fellow, actually paying the farmers for their goods. Mind you, it was a terrific wrench against his basic nature, so he was never too comfortable whenever he saw me coming. The lukewarm smile he wore when I walked into The Oak’s common room tonight was the best that could be expected given the circumstances.
I hailed Nash like a long-lost friend and asked if I could have the pleasure of buying him a drink. Several of the regular customers, hoping to take a share of my generosity, soon crowded in to give their greetings. Eternally parched Noddy Milverton placed himself right next to me without my having to trouble to arrange it.
Nash accepted the offer and somehow the others were included, and they drank to my health.
“Anything in the post, Mr. Farr?” I asked.
“A few things did chance to come in today,” he said, fetching them. Chance indeed, for the post was now sporadic at best. He lay a string-tied packet before me and I made use of my penknife to cut it open. Had my heart been beating, it would have been audible from my surge of hope. But the hope was short-lived and the dashing of it was not unnoticed.
“Nothing from England?” sympathized Farr. He knew from my almost nightly visits to his place that I was expecting an important letter from there.
“No.” Some things for Father from Hempstead, some for Elizabeth, a note for Beldon from some Philadelphia crony. My disappointment was acute. Noddy Milverton took the opportunity to swiftly drain my ale and continue his simple-minded innocence.
“Sorry, Mr. Barrett,” said Farr. “The next time then.”
“I hope so.” I asked for and got the latest gossip. There had been a raid at Sands Cove, with stock carried off in whaleboats. A valuable bull had been part of the haul, and the unhappy owner was both enraged and sickened that his breeding animal was probably already hanging from a hook in some distant butchery.
“What’s to be done about it?” I asked Nash, rather unfairly putting him on the spot in front of everyone.
But he’d heard that question often enough and was ready for it. “All that can be done. The men up there watch the coast like hawks, but they can’t be everywhere at once.”
“There oughter be a way o’ stoppin’ ’um,” someone put in.
“There is. The army is doing its best to track down the traitors across the Sound. Once order is restored you’ll be free of trouble soon enough.”
No one was encouraged by this pronouncement, but they’d not get anything different from him and knew better than to try. Most retired to other parts of the room, grumbling a little, but not to the point of rudeness. Nash was content to ignore them.
“This raid at Sands Cove,” I said in a lower voice. “Any familiar faces there?”
He knew I meant Ash and his lot. “The descriptions were too vague to be sure. The fellows were definitely from Connecticut by their talk, according to the farmer. The rest of his family had been badly frightened, but he—well, I’ve rarely seen a man so spitting mad before. Thought he’d burst a blood vessel from it.”
He must have been angry indeed for Nash to notice, having himself so blithely annoyed quite a lot of people with his collections. I made no comment. “Then there’s been no fresh word on any of them?”
“None.”
As there seemed little point in continuing the conversation, I bade him a polite good evening and retired to one of the chairs to listen to the other men’s gossip. Nash, I thought, glimpsing at him from the corner of my eye, looked relieved. It must have been hard on him, always being vaguely uncomfortable about me and never knowing why.
The talk was more of the same, but leavened with a curse or two directed at the troublemakers. Occasionally the British army or the Hessians were the targets of their ire, but only in the lowest of tones. I fell under the eye of Mr. Curtis, who gestured for me to come closer, which I did. Room was made and I sat next to him.
“Well, Mr. Barrett, is that reward you’re offering still good?”
Months ago I’d put up a sum of money for the arrest of my kidnappers. So far no one had been able to claim it. “It is.”
“Real money?”
“In gold. What do you know?”
He didn’t quite answer the question. “Just wanted to be sure of it in case we ran into ’em.”
My brows went up. “You think there’s a chance of that?”
He and the others were amused. “I reckon we might see a new face an’ it wouldn’t hurt to be wise about it.”
“No, not at all.”
More amusement and I joined them, albeit grimly now that I understood what they were about. Connecticut had its raiders, and so now did Long Island, and I was sitting with a few of them. It was a clear night, with a bright full moon, though, else they’d already be out trying to repay the many insults our neighbor across the Sound had thrown at us. I could imagine both sides unknowingly passing each other in their whaleboats the next time conditions for a stealthy crossing occurred.
“Mr. Curtis, I was wondering if you’d heard anything about raiders coming in from Suffolk County.”
“I’m not as near there as you are. You’d know more’n me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, but you have been blessed with a sharper ear than most. I thought some word might have come your way.”
He shook his head. “What’s your idea?”
“It’s something Mr. Nash just said about the thieves he missed catching.” I won a smile from them at Nash’s expense.
“What ’uz that?”
“He said they must have been from Connecticut from their talk, and it seemed to me to have two meanings, that they either spoke of the place or the place itself was in their speech. An accent.”
“What of it?”
“Well, I was recalling how those men spoke to me, and I don’t think a single one of them had a Connecticut accent.”
“It don’t mean that they weren’t from there, though. Lots of folk have had to move around with this war on.”
“Perhaps so. But it was a windy night back then and even after the wind had died, the sea would be no friend to anyone in a boat trying to make the crossing. I was thinking it might be easier for them to row along the shore for a few miles until they were deeper into Suffolk County.”
“I’m no whaling man, but it makes sense to me. What’ll you do about it?”
“There’s not much I can do, except pass the word on to Mr. Nash and hope some good comes of it.”
“Then good luck to you both, I’m sure.”
Now the laugh was at my expense, I took it good-naturedly, knowing full well the seed had been planted. If any of them heard a whisper, I’d know about it. I wished them good luck in turn and took my leave.
* * *
Even after spending some time with (and money on) Molly Audy, I was home again just before midnight, and startled to see lights still burning in the music room. I peered in the window. Mother, Mrs. Hardinbrook, Beldon and Lady Caroline were at cards. Beldon and Lady Caro
line were yawning their heads off. This was the latest I’d ever seen any of them stay up to play, but Mother was quite addicted to the games. If she insisted on another hand or two, she could count on Mrs. Hardinbrook to enthusiastically join in, dragging her brother along. Lady Caroline played, I thought, to be polite.
The rest of the house was dark and quiet, with everyone else presumably in bed. Father wasn’t home, having departed for an overnight trip to Hempstead, though I knew him to really be at Mrs. Montagu’s. I wished him well. No doubt he’d left a stack of work for me in the library, but it wouldn’t hurt to delay my start on it for a while. Molly had, as usual, put me into a mellow frame of mood and mind; I was content to stand outside and watch.
And wait.
The game went on, with Beldon and Lady Caroline growing more sleepy by the minute. Even Mrs. Hardinbrook started to droop. Mother was quite alert, though, her movements crisp. There was a certain nervousness in her manner, but that was familiar to us all. She had been staying up later and later over the months, asking for just one more hand, or continuing a conversation beyond its natural close. I don’t think she slept well; for I’d heard her pacing in her room at odd hours. Beldon gave her sleeping draughts when she asked for them, and though she drank them straight down, they must not have been doing her much good.
Now she looked to be trying the patience of her staunchest supporter, for when the hand was finished, Mrs. Hardinbrook made a great show of weariness and rose. Beldon lurched to his feet as well, then Lady Caroline. Mother remained seated and I felt an unexpected stab of pity for her as she looked up at them. She seemed . . . lost. I hadn’t forgotten how she never let herself be alone if she could help it.
It was probably awful for her, but there was little I could do about it. I had other things to concern me.
Beldon escorted Lady Caroline from the room. They’d likely go straight up to their respective beds. Excellent. Mrs. Hardinbrook lingered, putting the cards away and offering one-word replies to anything Mother said. She put out all but two of the candles, taking one for herself and giving the other to Mother.
