Less Than a Gentleman (6 page)

C
HAPTER
S
IX

C
aroline admired the crocheted edging on the pillowcase. “ ’Tis lovely. I’ve rarely seen such a fine set of childbed linen.”

Jane rummaged through the trunk. “I haven’t looked at these in years. After I lost my third child, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Caroline folded the pillowcase. “Perhaps we should put them away.”

“No. I’ve hidden them here long enough.” Jane looked about the nursery. “I wanted to fill this room with children.” Her gaze rested on Charlotte. “God works in mysterious ways.”

“Indeed. You’re a godsend to us.” Caroline returned the pillowcase to the trunk.

Virginia eased onto Edward’s bed. “I’m so sorry for the ones you lost, Jane. I cannot imagine carrying one full-term and then losing it.” She smoothed a hand over her belly, and her eyes glimmered with tears. “I’ve been fearful for this one.”

“You’ll be fine.” Jane perched on the bed beside Virginia. “And so will the child.”

“Godsookers!” Edward skipped toward them with a tin box in his hands. “Look what I found. There must be a hundred of them.”

“Oh, gracious.” Jane picked up one of the pewter soldiers from the box. “I’d forgotten about these. Matthias and his cousin loved playing with them.”

“May I play with them?” Edward asked.

“Of course.” Jane placed the soldier back in the box.

“Come, Charlotte.” Edward dumped the soldiers on the floor.

Jane leaned over and pulled another item from the trunk. “Ah, I remember this one. A white bed gown of silk damask.” She passed it on to Virginia.

Virginia fingered the expensive lace. “These should remain in the family. I don’t feel right about using them.”

“Nonsense.” Jane waved a hand in the air. “You
are
family. Your sister . . . Agatha has agreed to marry my son.”

Caroline attempted a smile.

Virginia bit her bottom lip. “What if . . . Agatha and Matthias do not suit each other?”

Smiling, Jane selected another item from the trunk. “I believe they will do quite nicely together.”

Caroline groaned inwardly. What if this Matthias suddenly returned home? And worse, what if he liked her?

At the age of twenty-six, she’d accustomed herself to the prospect of remaining a spinster. Finding a suitable man was difficult in these times. All the strong and healthy young men had volunteered for the army. And many, like Roger, never returned. The familiar twinge of guilt pricked at her once more.
Forgive me, Roger, for sending you to your death.

Charlotte stamped a foot, jolting Caroline from her thoughts. “I don’t want to be the British. The British are bad.”

Edward stretched out on the floor, lining up a row of soldiers. “You have to be the British. I’m going to be the Continental Army.”

“I hate the British!” Charlotte screamed. “They want to kill Papa!” She crumbled onto the floor, crying.

With a gasp, Virginia struggled to get off the bed.

“I’ll get her.” Caroline ran to her niece and gathered her up in her arms. “Shh, sweeting. Your papa is fine.”

Edward rose to his knees. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’ll be the British and let you beat me really bad.”

“I don’t want to play war,” Charlotte cried.

“Of course not.” Caroline hugged her tight. “Edward, put the soldiers away.”

“All right.” He gathered up a handful and dropped them into the tin box with a noisy clatter. “You know Papa is all right, Charlotte. You said he would always be all right as long as you had the book he gave you.”

Charlotte sniffed. “You told me that was nonsense.”

“I was wrong.” Edward dumped the rest of the soldiers in the box. “I believe it.”

“So do I.” Virginia reclined against the pillows and closed her eyes. “I’ve always believed that if something happened to Quincy, I would know. Somehow I would feel it.”

Caroline’s heart ached for her sister. They had been visiting Aunt Mary in Boston when Ginny had fallen in love with the dashing sea captain, Quincy Stanton. Caroline knew firsthand how much Ginny adored her husband. How did she survive each day not knowing how he fared?

It was just as bad for their mother in North Carolina. Mama fretted over both her husband and her son. Fergus had gone over the mountains to join the frontier militia, and they’d received no news from him in months. Caroline could only pray that her brother was still alive. And her brother-in-law. And her father. She also prayed that her niece and nephew would survive without being physically or emotionally damaged for life.

That was more than enough anxiety to live with each day. She would not add to it and suffer like her mother and sister, constantly worrying that their beloved husbands could be dead. She’d learned that lesson too painfully with her fiancé, Roger. Never again would she love a man who was involved in the war.

If only there was someone safe to love. Someone who wouldn’t put on a uniform, line up before the British, and invite them to shoot at him. Someone like . . . a
butler
?

She flinched and caught her breath. How could she even consider the scoundrel? She pushed the errant thought from her mind as she set her niece on the floor next to Edward. “Shall we go outside for a walk?”

“All right.” Edward jumped to his feet.

“I want to stay with Mama,” Charlotte whispered.

“Of course.” Caroline smoothed back her niece’s black curls. Charlotte might have inherited her father’s dark hair, but her fair complexion and pale green eyes were Ginny once again. And the tears in those eyes tore at Caroline’s heart.

E
dward skipped onto the pier. “Can I go out in the rowboat?”

“Not by yourself.” Caroline stopped beside her nephew and pointed upstream. “Is that smoke in the distance?”

“Godsookers. Are the British burning homes again?”

“I hope not.” She eyed the black clouds of smoke rising into a clear blue sky. “It might be the militia burning more ferries.”

“Let’s take the rowboat and have a look.”

“No. We’ll stay here, where it is safe.” She turned away and wandered downstream along a path lined with swamp rose and sweet bay.

Edward joined her. “How long will we stay here?”

“Until your mother has recovered from her lying-in.”

“What about our plan to find Grandpa?”

What, indeed? Was Father still alive? Caroline halted under a sycamore tree. “I wish he’d stop fighting.”

“Grandpa likes a good fight.” Edward jumped, making a grab for the lowest tree branch.

“There’s no such thing as a good fight.”

“Of course there is. We’re fighting for freedom.” Edward braced his feet against the trunk, then swung a leg over the branch.

Caroline sighed. It was hard to remember the cause was noble when so many loved ones were in danger. With her nephew happily climbing the tree, she wandered to the riverbank. There was a large gristmill almost a mile downstream. The waterwheel rotated slowly with the sluggish current. This must be where the plantation produced its flour.

Could Haversham be working there? She shook her head. Why did he keep invading her thoughts?

On her way back to Edward, she paused by a small tree. “Look at this. A dogwood.”

“So?” Edward’s voice emanated from behind a cover of leaves, clearly unimpressed.

She pulled a branch of the dogwood toward her. “The twigs can be used for cleaning our teeth.”

“So?”

“I need a knife.”

“Oh.” Edward dropped onto the ground, suddenly interested in the conversation. “I know where there’s a knife. In the bag I hid by those trees.” He pointed to the grove of loblolly pines.

“Excellent.” Caroline accompanied him to the grove.

He brushed off the pine needles he had heaped on top of their meager supplies. “What about the musket?”

“Let’s leave it here for now.” She rummaged through the bag and removed the knife.

“Can I take the tinder wheel and candles to our room? I can light the candles at night so Charlotte can see her book.”

“Fine.” Caroline returned to the dogwood tree, where she cut four twigs. She frayed the ends of the twigs with the knife.

Meanwhile, Edward entertained himself with the tinder wheel. He stuffed dry leaves into the tinderbox, then wrapped the string around the steel wheel. With a yank on the string, the wheel spun against the flint. Sparks flew, igniting the tinder, then sizzling out.

His eyes lit up. “Zounds, this is better than a top.”

“ ’Tis not a toy. You must be careful with it.” Caroline slipped the knife and dogwood twigs into her skirt pocket, and they headed toward the house.

Inside, she passed the twigs to Edward. “Take these to the nursery, so you and Charlotte can clean your teeth.” Edward made a face, then scampered up the stairs carrying the tinder wheel, candles, and twigs.

Caroline strode out the back door to the kitchen. She’d met Miss Dottie the night before when she’d bathed.

“May I help with the cooking?” she asked.

“No, child,” Miss Dottie replied as she chopped some onions at the long table. “Betsy and I will do just fine.”

“But you have more mouths to feed now,” Caroline insisted. “Please allow me to assist you in some way.”

Betsy glanced up from the table where she was peeling potatoes and smiled shyly.

Dottie chuckled. “We heard you had a visitor late last night.”

With warm cheeks, Caroline quickly looked about, but Haversham was nowhere in sight. Where could he be? “May I at least take care of the nursery while we’re here? I would hate for our presence to burden you in any way.”

Dottie studied her a moment, then mumbled softly, “That boy would be a fool to let this one get away.”

What boy? Was she referring to Haversham?

“Help yourself to an apron and some cleaning rags.” Dottie motioned to a cupboard.

“Thank you.” Caroline slipped on an apron and filled a small bucket with water from the pump. With a handful of rags and the bucket, she returned to the nursery, where she enlisted the help of her niece and nephew. They cleaned the entire nursery while Ginny rested.

“Can we play now?” Edward asked for the tenth time.

“Yes.” Caroline used her apron to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. “Let’s go to the garden.”

With a cheer, Edward and Charlotte clambered down the stairs. Caroline followed at a slower pace, carrying the bucket and rags.

A breeze welcomed her at the back door, surrounding her with the scent of roses. She set her cleaning supplies down next to the latticework. Glancing up, she spotted the balcony to the bedchamber where she’d been so rudely awakened. Had Haversham climbed the latticework to sneak into the room? Where was he now? The rascal had disappeared after breakfast.

She groaned. Once again, she was thinking about him. Firmly shoving him from her mind, she strolled into the garden. A tall metal device at the end of the garden pool drew her attention. Strips of metal formed a hollow sphere with Roman numerals embossed inside. An arrow shot through the center. She surmised it was some sort of sundial.

Charlotte and Edward skipped around the reflecting pool, then leaned over to dangle their hands in the water. She avoided looking in the pool, not wishing to see how many new freckles she had acquired on her journey from the Pee Dee River.

Jane emerged from the back door, a large bonnet atop her head, thick gloves on her hands and a basket in the crook of her arm. “Ah, there you are.” She dropped her basket in front of a bed of blooming marigolds. “I thought I would do a little work in the garden.”

Caroline joined her. “May I help you?”

Jane motioned to her apron. “Betsy told me you were cleaning in the nursery. There’s really no need. You’re my guests here.”

“We don’t wish to be a burden.” Caroline knelt in front of the flowerbed. “And I enjoy gardening. I did most of it at our home in Charles Town.”

Jane gave her an amused look. “I’m surprised, Agatha. I thought your family had quite a few servants.”

“Oh, well, times have been difficult lately.” Feeling her cheeks grow hot, Caroline looked away. She could hear the children laughing, but they were nowhere in sight. “Where are Edward and Charlotte?”

Jane removed a small cushion from the basket and knelt on it. “It sounds like they’re in the pergola.”

“Oh.” Caroline scanned the three borders of the garden. She had assumed the climbing roses and jasmine covered walls, but instead, they formed hollow tunnels. “You have a marvelous garden.”

“Yes, it has been my one joy in life. Other than Matthias, of course.”

Caroline dug her fingers around the prickly base of a dandelion and yanked it out. “ ’Tis a large garden for you to tend by yourself.”

“Yes. I fear we’re very short on help these days.” Jane used her shears to snip off dead flowers. “My husband went to defend Charles Town and took quite a few of the men with him. I suppose they’re all prisoners now. At least the ones who survived.”

“I’m so sorry.”

With a sigh, Jane moved her pillow down to the next group of flowers. “Then we suffered an epidemic of smallpox and lost half a dozen farmhands.”

“How terrible.” Caroline pulled another weed. “What do you grow here? Indigo?”

“Yes.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “If you had come a few weeks earlier, you would have smelled it a mile away. It causes an awful stink when they cook it down to bricks. I always spent the summer months in Charles Town to escape the smell, but of course with the British there, I was forced to remain here.”

“I see.”

“I’ve been alone here for months. Matthias is not able to stop by very often.”

Caroline added another pulled weed to her growing pile. “He must be very busy with the war. You said he was a soldier?”

“Yes, a captain.”

Was he still alive? Caroline hoped so, for Jane’s sake, but prayed she’d be gone before he could return.

Jane sighed. “There’s too much here for me to keep up with. Dottie and Betsy are the only servants in the kitchen and the Great House. Betsy’s indentureship will be over in another year. I don’t know what I’ll do then.”

“I would be happy to help. And you also have Haversham.”