My Name is Resolute (34 page)

The coachman rapped at the doorjamb. “Miss Talbot? Mr. Roberts insists you make haste.”

“Oh, indeed,” I said, and followed him, having to bow under his upheld cloak. I climbed in, the close dampness adding to the crushed feeling in my heart. Mr. Roberts’s face was so deep scarlet he seemed to be emanating steam from the damp curls of his wig. Mistress Roberts appeared concerned but confused. I bowed my head to be within my own thoughts, hiding my eyes behind the rim of my bonnet as the coach moved.

Mistress Roberts, after a great deal of throat clearing and fluttering behind a handkerchief, said, “May we continue to the dresser’s, then?”

His answer was as much in sputter as it was in words. “What—of course—it cannot be—we are finished—this day—oh rue it. No.”

Her face wore her disappointment as would a child’s. In silence we rode for near an hour. I was not sure when I began to weep, but tears coursed my face freely, thinking of Jamaica. Of Ma. Of Pa and August. Patey. I raised my head to catch my breath and upon seeing me so encumbered with grief, Mr. Roberts himself burst into tears, sobbing and sighing. Perhaps he thought my grief was for his misfortune, though I knew it not fully, only that something had gone wrong with his shipping plans. Mistress Roberts wept also. When we arrived at their home, Mr. Roberts spoke to his wife as if she were a servant, saying, “Bring me port. Plenty of it. I must think.” Then he closed himself in his study room, and while the rest of us supped, he called for another bottle of port.

Serenity and Portia chattered about Wallace, upset that their mother had not returned with samples of silks for a gown. I decided I must write another letter. I must inquire, perhaps through that solicitor, to the other great houses, and find to which my mother had retreated. I read the letters again at my dressing table. I should deliver the letter to Mr. Roberts, as that had been my intention before curiosity overtook me. “I opened it!” I said, startled at myself. The sealing wax was broken, half of it gone. Not enough remained to reseal it. There was no way to conceal that I had read it. The wax was still present on my letter, having been applied so that the bulk of it remained when I pulled the sheet open. I pried it loose with my fingernail, and holding it between two fingers over the candle flame, softened the back of it. Soon my fingers blistered, and I dropped the dab of wax. “Oh, la!” Now it was deformed and stuck to the table.

With a metal fingernail tool, I lifted it again and passed it over the flame, setting it on the ruddy place where the previous seal had been. It looked preposterous but it was sealed, drips marring the outer appearance so the whole thing seemed splattered by someone too unfamiliar with the task to be allowed in the king’s service. Mr. Roberts, in his current state, might not notice. I would explain that in my excitement I had opened the wrong letter first. As I slipped the letter under the closed door of his study, I felt a great tug. I had betrayed my promise to myself not to be false. I tapped on the door.

“Enter.” His appearance had changed markedly. He slouched in his chair, his wig on the desk at his elbow, port stains on his vest and coat, ink stains on his hands, and a great many paper rolls tumbling before him.

I retrieved the letter from the floor. “Mr. Roberts? I have received a letter from Jamaica. I opened it in my haste, before I realized it was addressed to you. I apologize, sir. It seems the current proprietor of Two Crowns Plantation did little other than confirm his presence there, rather than search the unscathed plantations for my mother’s whereabouts—”

“Damn!”

I stiffened. “I am deeply sorry, sir. It was a lapse of my judgment.”

“I don’t want to hear about it. Close the door as you leave, Miss Talbot.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, as a servant would do.

“Wait! Hand me that! We are saved. That’s it. We are saved! Now close the door, there. Be off. Good evening, Miss Talbot.”

I placed the letter before him. My clumsy seal popped open. When I got through the door, Mistress Roberts was at my shoulder, dressed for bed and holding a candle. “What did he say?”

“Only to close the door.”

“But what had he heard? What letter had you? Is this good or bad?”

I had no answer for her. All I knew was that it contained bad news for me. I said, “I know not, madam.” She seemed so sad that I kissed her cheek as a daughter would, and bade her good night.

CHAPTER 16

May 2, 1736

The downstairs maid found Mr. Roberts first. It was noon when she braved entry into his study though he answered not at her knock upon his door. She was to be ever thankful, she told the constable and other men who came at Betsy’s bidding, that as he swung from the beam, Providence had found it expedient that his distorted face turned toward the window rather than the door, or she might have lost her mind.

On the day Mr. Roberts was buried, spring gave way to light breezes and sunshine as golden and pleasing as a still-warm pie. There was discussion about his place of rest, but it was decided that his stature in the community deigned a consecrated plot near the church, for after all, they were not Catholics who purged those who for madness or sorrow ended their own lives. The entire town processed to the funeral.

Goody Carnegie, appearing as sound as any, greeted me with a wave and a smile of recognition.

“Good morning, Goodwife Carnegie,” I said.

“Dearie! What a fine lass you are to remember me, Miss Talbot. How nice to see you, but such a sorrowful occasion. I am grieved at your loss.”

“Thank you, Goody. How goes it with you?”

“Well enough. Well enough.” She rolled her eyes a little. “Quiet, lately.” An oriole chatter-sang overhead, perched on the edge of the church roof.

I smiled at her, seeing in myself a fondness for the poor dear, as I saw her tenderness, her brokenness. “Fair winds, then, and more quiet, for your future.”

“Why, I thank you, dearie. Now, we should get back to mourning our fellow here.”

As we stood alongside the grave and listened to prayers, robins chirruped heartily, larks and finches flittered with abandon, busy at nesting, and a black crow flew overhead, from north to south. I watched it go, rather than concentrating on the coffin below my feet. If I wast a blackbird, the song went, I would fly to the ship on which he sailed, find my love, and bow at his heel. If a blackbird could cross the sea, I prayed that one to Ma while they prayed Mr. Roberts to heaven.

*   *   *

Wallace returned and spring forced us to abandon our grief, for though we behaved with decorum, we could not deny the warmth or rousing thunderstorms or verdant fields and meadows alive with every form of life. Mistress Roberts sent for the dresser in Boston to come to their home and create a gown for Serenity. The cost would be paid on account, she said.

Serenity, Wallace, and I made it our business to go abroad in town twice a week or more, and to Boston for Serenity to have her gown fitted. That time we rode in the Spencers’ new coach. While she was thus engaged, he and I sat in the coach and he moved from his seat facing mine to the empty one next to me. Though it was the warmest day yet, he pulled down the window coverings. “We are quite alone here,” he said.

“Though much may be heard through those windows,” I ventured. “Have you proposed to Miss Roberts, yet?”

“Do not toy with me, Miss Talbot. You know my intentions.”

“I do. But does she? I trow that is her wedding gown she is fitting, and none other. She must be told. It is only right.”

He said, “Alas for her. She may not marry for at least a year, with her father so soon dead.” He smiled, took my hand and held it in his. When I made as if to take it away, he wrapped both his around mine so tenderly it made heat rise on my cheeks. “Ah. Perhaps you need some air.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Do you know my heart, Miss Talbot?”

“As it concerns Miss Roberts?”

“Silly goose. You know in days of old, a man and a woman would ply their troth by the fast holding of hands. It was a quite tender tradition.”

“Along with a public blessing, it was. Here in this coach would not qualify, I believe. Tell me of your plantation in Virginia.”

“Why don’t I rather tell you of the other house I have purchased in Boston? It is that direction.” He raised a hand across me to raise the window shade.

I followed his finger and turned my head. “Which one?” I turned back to him in case he had not heard me. As I turned, I found he had leaned in against me to better reach the window and was still in that place, so that his face was less than an inch from my own. I felt soft breath near my cheek, saw the lashes on his eyes, the delicacy of his chiseled lips, so near my own. I said, “I do wonder what is keeping Serenity.”

“I bless whatever it is. The only serenity I shall ever know is in your presence.”

My mouth was as dry as if I had breathed dust. “Sir, you must give me air.”

In reply, he raised the hand with which he held mine, and kissed my fingertips, one at a time, while staring into my eyes. “I am bewitched by you, Miss Talbot. But surely you know that.”

“Do not speak of this, Mr. Spencer, unless you will answer me in truth. Have you proposed marriage to Serenity? Have you let her believe you are intended for her?” I licked my lips, fighting the dryness of my throat.

“No to both questions. Naturally, their family and mine have been long acquainted, and as we are young people, it is customary to befriend—but let us talk of what I do have and wish. I have houses and land. I have horses and coaches to carry you about and servants ready to do your bidding. Will you marry me?”

I knew not whether it was because of the hesitation in my eyes, or in spite of it, but when his lips covered mine with such tender caress, such pure feeling, I let myself wilt, enfolded in his arms, and we stayed thus, our lips pressed tightly, for many minutes. When at last he pulled away, I sank, breathless, against his neck. The crisp-softness of his clothing, the enticing strength of his arms, the kiss I had just known, all seemed too much to think about. I could do no more than just stay right where I was for a hundred years. As I caught my breath, I said, “I will marry you, Wallace. As soon as I get to Jamaica and find my mother. When I return I will marry you. Providing you tell Serenity.”

He pulled away, astonished. “That could take months.”

“We are young. We have all the future. Come with me.”

“Could you not send a letter and inquire?”

“I have tried. It served me not. Come with me. It will be a voyage to my past, and then I shall be yours for the future.”

He seemed to be pondering this. “Dear Resolute. Dear one, do not place this yoke upon me, upon us and our future. This is too dangerous, too lengthy. I should not
allow
you to go, either. As an engaged person you will have certain responsibilities. I would have us marry this fall. You have often told me how the season suits you.”

“We could marry in the plantation great house at Meager Bay. Ma would adore it.” I clutched his hands and smiled my most beguiling smile at him.

“Kiss me again, and tell me you cannot wait all that time to be wed.”

I kissed him again, and then pushed him away and said, “It is all I ask of you. Wait until I return, or
take
me to Jamaica. I have lived on no other wish for six years.”

His breath came hard and fast, as if he had run to this place. His eyes seemed to have grown larger and darker, and he said, “When Miss Roberts is finished with her errand we will go to a shipping master and inquire. Now is the best time of year to travel. Marry in the West Indies? It seems the perfect solution. We would not have to tell Miss Roberts, not hurt her so greatly, just travel there with me as your escort, and marry there, and come back husband and wife as if it were a natural occurrence, the happy accident of travel. She will be much the less harmed and you will be out of their home and so will suffer no ill accusation. After their recent bereavement, it would seem cruel to break her heart, don’t you agree? Of course you do. There, then. Dearest.”

The door to the shop rattled the wee bell which overhung it. The heat in the coach, combined with the thought of traveling unmarried with him, left me near to fainting. “Raise the shade, please,” I said.

“Of course.” He reached across me again and planted a quick kiss on my forehead as he sat back in the seat across from me.

Serenity opened the coach door, all asmile. “Why, it is dreadful hot in here! Why did you have these closed on this side?”

Wallace said, “There were common people passing by and peering in as if we were a curiosity.”

“Miss Talbot, I have brought you a gift.” She placed a large round box in my lap. “I know it is soon after Father’s death, but I saw it and thought of your fair coloring and knew it was the right thing to do. Please tell me you love it. If you don’t I will get another, for I mean to give you something.”

I opened the box, and feeling ever more guilt, I wept when I saw the delightful bonnet it contained. It was the newest fashion, small and costly, and in a shade called Prussian blue. “Oh, Serenity. It is exquisite!” As I sat, stunned, she put it on my head, tied the bow, and begged Wallace for his approval, which he gave with a nod, watching us all the time as a cat would watch two mice at play. When he informed her that our next stop would be one of the harbormasters, she did not seem at all disappointed. She was not happy about my going away, she declared, but made me promise to return and to write, which I did with some reservation and a twinge at my promise to myself about honesty. Serenity insisted she was happy to drive about with us, her best friends, all evening.

At the harbor office, though, Wallace bade us both sit in the coach where we opened the shades to get the ocean air; foul as it was with fishy smell and oils, at least it was cooler. When he returned, he said, “Miss Talbot, your passage is arranged. You leave on the
Aegean
in six weeks’ time. She sails at high tide on June sixteenth or seventeenth. You must be here on the fifteenth.”