Whatsoever things are lovely . . .
Rose-n-Vale was surely one of the loveliest spots on earth.
Whatsoever things are of good report . . .
Xander was known far and wide as an honest, God-fearing, albeit driven man.
If there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
The evening was young, unspooling before Xander with endless possibilities. Their fevered preparations had dwindled to the tuning of a fiddle and the rearranging of benches on the portico. All bespoke guests to come. He doubted he’d sit down once the festivities were under way. Servants ran from house to summer kitchen, laying out a table the likes of which Rose-n-Vale had never seen. Pitch-pine torches dipped in pennyroyal blazed here and there, casting light and scattering insects. His aunt had prayed for no rain but clouds, a curious order that got her exactly that, as if Providence was the first guest to arrive and orchestrated the weather as requested.
“Alexander, can you imagine what would ensue if the heavens opened and there came a thunderstorm? The house would be stuffed to the gills!” She sighed as she tied on a new apron. “I cannot help but recall Governor Harvey’s last entertainment when such a calamity occurred. Someone even made off with the silver and no one was the wiser!”
Stepping off the portico, Xander glanced at the attic dormer. No sign of Nurse Lineboro, nor McCaskey in his quarters. The expanding lane to the dependencies beyond the summer kitchen was yet another reminder more housing needed to be built. Two housemaids and another kitchen maid were coming on the next supply ship at his aunt’s request.
“Sir?”
He turned around to see his farm manager approaching. “Welcome, Sterrett.”
“Indeed, sir. Most of the workers will be joining us. There are but three still ailing and abed. The rest consider it a special privilege to be invited up to the house.”
“There are no airs or social distinctions here,” Xander replied. “Unlike Britain or even James Towne.”
“A freedom we’re slowly taking to heart.” Sterrett turned toward the river, unmistakable awe in his gaze.
Tonight the Powhatan was misted, a deep pearl gray. The mourning doves were cooing on high, undisturbed by the melee around them. Xander spied Oceanus coming out of the summer kitchen, nearly spilling the punch bowl he was carrying. How keen he’d been to help, yet from the look of things, that might not be happening. Biting his tongue, Xander swung his attention in another direction.
Walking uphill from the bridle path alongshore was a sight that set his heart to beating hard as a smitten boy’s. At the front, skipping merrily along, was Watseka, bright as a candle flame in her yellow dress. Behind her at a more sedate pace were Selah’s mother and father. Ustis was leaning on a cane, always seeming a step shy of recovery.
And his beloved?
Selah had her head bent as if navigating the uneven ground in new slippers. Her skirts swirled becomingly as if she were dancing with the wind. And her gown . . . purple as a Scottish thistle. Did she know it was his favorite color?
Pleasure gave way to guarded hope. If they could somehow secret themselves away for even a few minutes tonight . . .
McCaskey moved in front of him, blocking his view. “Renick, a fine gathering you’re hosting.” Already at the ale, he held up his tankard in a sort of toast. “Your first, so your aunt said.”
And mayhap my last.
Other guests were appearing, his nearest neighbors on foot or horseback, others by water, the distant wharf now teeming. Virginians enjoyed these gatherings. Hospitality wasn’t something he paid much attention to, though his aunt often set an extra place at table for any who might come by, even if it never happened.
“Are we among the first to arrive? Rose-n-Vale has never looked so festive.” This from Ustis, speaking in winded bursts. “Selah told us about your new portico. A worthy addition.”
“I’ve been wishing I’d seen to it earlier. There are chairs if you want to take in the view.” Xander gestured toward them as Candace smiled her appreciation.
Selah appeared from behind her father. Smiling coyly at him. Watseka was standing nearer him, and he gave a little bow, complimenting her new dress. She chattered to him in her tongue, asking about Oceanus.
“Last I saw, he was wrestling the punch bowl.”
With a little laugh, she dashed toward the house, and he noticed her pockets were bulging. What was she up to?
“Where are your faithful hounds?” Selah asked as he fell into step beside her.
“Tied behind the smokehouse and nursing a bone, well away from the guests. My aunt rightly insisted.”
“Of course. We shut Watseka’s pup inside the stable lest he follow us all the way here.” She smiled at him again. In fact, she hadn’t stopped smiling. “You’re looking in fine form since I last saw you. I feared with all the illness of late and your own special malady—”
“Which worsens by the hour.” He came to a stop by the rose arbor. “When was it I last saw you? I’ve lost track of the time.”
She looked up at him, pushing back that maddening tendril of hair he’d once righted. “Five days, eleven hours, and fifty-six minutes.”
His own smile could be no wider. “You flatter a man.”
“Only you. And ’tis not flattery, truly.” The light of a pine torch illuminated the flush of her features. “The time seems long without you.”
“Agreed.” He studied her, wanting to imprint every detail to last him once she’d gone. “Your gown . . . Purple looks well on you.”
“Thank you.” She raised a hand to the lace falling band covering her shoulders, appearing suddenly shy. “Don’t look too closely or you might see a great many hasty stitches.”
“You could say the same about my weskit. My aunt’s eyesight isn’t what it once was.”
“Yet handsome nonetheless—”
“Master Renick, what a fine occasion you’re hosting!” The warm voice turned them both around. “I have yet to welcome Mistress Hopewell upriver.”
The wealthy widow from Martin’s Hundred? Selah greeted her warmly. “Good to see you again, Mistress Hastings. I hope all your family is well.”
“Aside from the usual summer maladies, quite well, thank you.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m surprised to find you two quite clannish by the garden.”
“Clannish, nay,” Xander returned easily. “Rather reacquainting ourselves after a long absence.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied, stepping nearer him and leaning in to smell a blooming rose. “Such a lovely garden.”
Selah turned back to him, brushing his coat sleeve with the tip of her fan. “Perhaps we shall meet up again before the night is over.”
“Count on it,” he replied, schooling both his longing and his disappointment as she made her way toward the portico.
28
So, they were being clannish? Guilty as charged. The obviously smitten widow had simply called out the obvious. Selah felt a startling realization that Xander now possessed the ability to shrink her world to one. No one else existed or much mattered, even at a public frolic. Engrossed in his company, she all but forgot her manners. Little wonder others took notice or made mention of the breach.
Her restless gaze roamed through colorfully clad ladies and gentlemen as fireflies came out in flickering force. She spoke with Nurse Lineboro and others she knew, aware of Xander being the gracious host as the party swelled in size. With so many guests she’d likely not get another word with him, and some of the gaiety went out of her.
“Ah, the unforgettable Mistress Hopewell.” McCaskey sidled up to her, offering a cup of punch. She thanked him, his slurred speech raising her alarm, though he seemed steady enough on his feet. “I saw you coming up the hill on foot. Surely a lady of your station deserves better.”
“I’m no grand dame, I assure you. Nor have I ever seen a wheeled carriage in these parts.” She sipped her punch. “Most ride horseback or rely on river travel
. Virginia’s roads are frightful, I’m afraid.”
“A shame you can’t travel in style. I suppose you ride?”
“I do, though I’d rather walk.”
“Why don’t we take a turn through the garden, then? The lawn is getting overrun.”
Her refusal was needless as the call to supper came. McCaskey took his place in the supper line. Slowly guests made their way through Rose-n-Vale’s open doors to the new wing. Selah could hear children’s buoyant laughter, though she’d lost track of Watseka and Oceanus in the melee. She tarried till the portico emptied, her parents just ahead of her. Ustis whispered something in Candace’s ear. Her low laugh assured Selah all was well.
Oh, Shay, how do you fare?
Thoughts of her brother overtook her at curious times. Might those promptings signal her brother’s need? She breathed a silent, open-eyed prayer for protection. Wisdom. Peace.
“If you lack a supper partner . . .”
Xander was behind her, bringing up the rear. No wealthy widow was near. Again, that delicious sense of being singled out took hold. Any anxious thoughts of Shay scattered.
“I’ve never had a supper partner,” she confessed. “Shall we sit at table?”
“There’s no formal board but a great many chairs.” He smiled at her, his words for her ears only. “And a private bench at the back of the garden.”
She warmed to the invitation. The dining room and parlor were thick with guests, supper provisions ample, even the banqueting dishes she’d suggested to Widow Brodie. Selah placed some of the fare on her plate, Xander just behind.
In the hall she spied Governor Harvey and a few officials conversing at the foot of the stairs, punch in hand, Laurent among them. How had she overlooked his arrival? Her appetite fled. Eyes down, she passed by them. Invited or not, these men made their presence known at various functions, if only to flaunt their authority. Aware of Laurent’s eyes on her, she took a side door. Nearby sat Watseka and Oceanus on the steps, sharing a plate.
In her quest to avoid the physic she’d likely lost Xander too. No longer was he shadowing her. Passing beneath the rose arbor, she took a shell-strewn path to the bench, pulse picking up when she heard a footfall behind her. Laurent?
Lord, nay.
Teasing laced his tone. “Don’t think you can elude me.”
“’Tis not you I wish to elude.” Relieved, she sat, finding Xander’s hands empty. “What, no supper?”
“Somehow a gathering like this steals my appetite.”
Did he mean Harvey and his minions?
He took a seat beside her. “I’ll have my fill when all go home.”
“But there might be nothing left.” She took a piece of salted ham between her fingers and held it out. He leaned in obligingly, his arm about her back as she fed it to him.
A fiddle ground out a tune in the background, the hubbub of voices nearer the house rising steadily. The guests were enjoying themselves, as was their absent host. She took a bite herself, then gave him the next, content to stay hidden at the back of the garden for as long as time allowed them.
“I never thought to feed the master of Rose-n-Vale,” she began as he leaned in again.
A burst of giggling from the hedgerow turned her rosy. With a rustle of bushes, Oceanus stepped out, Watseka following. Beneath Xander’s inquiring gaze, they stood chagrined, and then Watseka approached, something in her outstretched hands.
The shell beads? In the dark they glistened and gave a faint tinkling sound. All the time and care Watseka had spent crafting the beads—was it for them?
Xander took the gift as Oceanus looked on, perhaps as mystified as Selah herself. Lifting one strand of beads, Xander put them over Selah’s head, where they cascaded down her bodice.
“A gift,” he told her. The other strand he wore. Against his dark blue doublet, they made a striking contrast.
Without a word, the children slipped back into the hedgerow, leaving them alone again. “You’re smiling.” She set down her plate and fingered the new necklace. “You welcome the gift of her hands and heart.”
He took her fingers in his. “I welcome the meaning behind it especially.”
“Oh? All I see are beautiful beads that took a little girl a very long time to fashion into something wearable. That itself is remarkable. Is there more?”
He gave a nod. “Watseka is wiser than her years.” He took the shells from around his neck and slowly wrapped them around their joined hands. “In a Powhatan wedding ceremony, beads encircle the bride and groom. Such symbolizes unity. Hearts as one.”
“Hearts as one . . .” Joy sang through her at his poetic phrasing. “Beautiful . . . romantic.”
With a mesmerizing slowness, he unwound the beads binding them and placed them again about his neck, then he stood and brought her to her feet. They were so close she could feel the beads bedecking them through their garments. Was that his heart she also felt? Or her own, pulsing like a hare released from a snare?
He bent his head, kissing her as she’d never dreamt of being kissed. ’Twas a declaration. A whirlwind of sensations and emotions. Gone was the uncertainty, the hesitation.
“Selah . . . I am taking this as your aye.”
“Aye,” she echoed. “Aye to everything.”
She kissed him back, so many kisses she soon lost count of them. Lost in the moment. In the sweet exclusivity of his embrace.
When they drew slightly apart, she felt bereft. Foreheads touching, they welcomed the new world that had just opened to them, no longer two separate souls but nearly one.
“Lest my aunt send out a search party for me”—the amused lament in his tone brought her to her senses—“I’d best return to my guests.”
His lips met hers a final time before he left her. She followed him with her gaze, waiting to make a discreet entrance herself. Dancers swirled past the tall windows of the new wing as she made her way toward the portico and her parents, nearly colliding with Nurse Lineboro.
“Oceanus needs to be abed. The hour is growing late.” Her pointed gaze took in Watseka flitting about with the other children. “I’m afraid his companion grows wilder by the hour.”
Downcast, Oceanus looked at Selah, his high spirits gone. Knowing she had little say in the matter, Selah simply called for Watseka and took her hand.
“What are those curious beads around your neck?” Nurse Lineboro asked.
“The work of Watseka, fashioned from shells.” Smiling down at her, Selah relived the tender moment all over again.
“A far cry from the Virginia pearls one hears about.” Nurse Lineboro turned away, leaving Selah hoping Watseka had no grasp of the sour words.
Seeking a diversion, Selah pointed toward the house. “Shall we try some comfits I spy coming from the kitchen?”
Intercepting the large tray, they sampled the sweets, Watseka wide-eyed despite the late hour. Above their heads the moon foretold eleven o’clock. A few guests were departing, but the merriment carried on for most. Near the summer kitchen came the bellowing voice of McCaskey, telling a shipboard tale that made Selah want to cover Watseka’s ears. With the sheriff on hand, the factor might well be arrested for public drunkenness.
Selah led her further from the noise. “Let us stay outdoors. Soon we shall take our leave.”
As pine torches were replaced, the light of one illuminated Helion Laurent stepping off the portico. Would the darkness hide her? Nay. He approached, his swagger loosened by spirits. Rum, from the potent smell of it.
“Ah, Mistress Hopewell. So soon away?”
She drew Watseka nearer. “The hour grows late.”
“A pity soon consoled. Now that I’m residing upriver, I shall see you again soon enough.”
Dismay lodged like a stone inside her. Few welcomed the news that Laurent was spending more time upriver away from the hornet’s nest that was James Towne. “Will you turn farmer as well as physic?”
“I have an eye toward my future.” Reaching out, he lifted
the beads from her bodice in a startling display of familiarity. “I daresay your jewelry is most peculiar. Surely there is a story behind it.”
Freeing the strand from his bold fingers, she took a step back. “A gift.”
A reassuring hand grazed the small of her back. Xander came forward, torchlight illuminating his wary gaze like a lightning flash. Laurent seemed to recoil. In the ensuing silence roiled hostility, loathing, a palpable ill will. She felt nearly blackened by it.
“Your father has had enough merriment.” Without a word to the physic, Xander took her elbow and steered her toward the stables.
In his wake was her mother. “Xander has lent us a pony cart to ride home in.”
“Aye, let us depart.” Ustis brought up the rear, his beloved face strained.
Near the stables a groom was readying their ride. Selah and Watseka would walk behind with a pine knot. Passing Selah the light, Xander accompanied them to the bridle path near shore and saw them safely off.
“Soon, Selah.” Xander’s last, heartfelt words to her carried her home.
29
By daylight the shell necklace was even prettier than when she’d been given it, a tangible reminder of her and Xander’s newfound tie. The frolic’s afterglow still lingered, adding a deep-seated joy to the next few days’ tasks. Less busy in the kitchen, Selah had more time to help her father. The bridle path between Hopewell Hundred and the warehouse was well traveled now as autumn encroached. Watseka oft accompanied her, Kentke nipping at their heels.
This morn, with her father downriver at James Towne, Selah traipsed after her mother into the near woods, empty baskets on both arms, intent on wildcrafting.
Candace eyed the shell necklace her daughter wore night and day, a knowing spark in her eye. “Our little Watseka is a clever matchmaker, so it seems, and not only a bead maker.”
“Older and wiser than her years, aye.”
“Well, I am a firm believer in beginning your lives as one without further ado. You’re clearly Xander’s choice. Why wait?” Candace began tearing boneset leaves from a bush in such haste it underscored her words. “If I’ve learned one lesson in Virginia, ’tis brevity. Many do not have the luxury of the morrow.”
Tidewater Bride Page 20
