My Name is Resolute (48 page)

The cloudy, gray afternoon was drawing in. It would be light for but a few more hours, I dared not wait much longer to start home. I strolled slowly down the street. At the last church on the end, the reverend was saying some prayers and a few people had gathered inside. I said a quick prayer myself, in hopes for August returning, hoisted my package onto the other arm, and walked toward home, looking over my shoulder for Cullah.

Since his father had seen me would he not have told him? I asked him not to say I called, but he could naturally have mentioned that I came about that chest, and to see the lathe at work. A person would, in polite conversation, say those things to a fellow. I quickened my steps until I nearly ran.

When I reached my door, I threw my bonnet on my bed and went to feed my goats and geese. Usually I took care where the food scattered, but this time, I simply upended the scraps I had for them in a heap and went in the house. I barred my doors and windows, and lit a single candle. Far in the distance, a wolf howled. The candle guttered and died, and cold fear chilled me through. I stirred the fire and lit another candle. Snow began to fill the corners of the windows.

CHAPTER 22

November 16, 1736

An autumn festival, the note said. A country dance. November 24, the last Saturday before harvest ended. Cullah came to my house a few days after I went to Concord, bringing the invitation. In truth it was but a leaflet scattered throughout the town, but for me it held portent. He carried his woodsman’s box with the axe attached to the outside. He brought a gift of beef, hung so that the outside was dried. It would be excellent roasted, though he said he would not stay while I cooked it; he only meant it to sustain me. He said Lady Spencer herself would be attending, so I would be in poor form not to come. He would come with a conveyance, he said, to take me to the dance. As he talked, I pondered whether I had time to finish the embroidery on my bolt of lavender linen and sell it. I had taken the new silk I brought home from Concord—a skein with a thread of real gold—and made one more rosebud on each of the one hundred forty-seven circles that crossed the thirty yards. There were three left to do.

“Why do you come with such a heavy burden? I have no work for you,” I asked, though my heart fluttered with joy.

“There is word that the woods are not safe. Indians have taken two from the road, one was found slaughtered, the other not found. That is why I came as soon as I heard. Promise me you will not venture on the roads alone.”

“Indians or no, I must get some goods to Lexington where I have promised thread to a shopkeeper.” I was already imagining opening my trunk, dancing in fine slippers left from my days of being a desired guest of the Roberts family. He watched me with the delicacy of a cat drooling over a wounded mouse, so I said instead, “Look at this.” I unfolded the linen upon which I had labored these weeks. I felt the same as I had the day I ran to Ma with my picture of Allsy and me running across the beach, showing my work for his approval.

He reached for it, then drew back his hand. “It looks soft. Very fine.”

“Thank you. It is all right, you may touch it.”

“No. My hands are rough. I would hurt it. You should not sell this. You should wear it yourself. The color suits you.”

“Do you think so? I should love it. But, I could sell this for several pounds more than my own gowns cost.”

“You think too much of money. There is more to life. I, I would buy this cloth and give it to you if you would promise to make yourself a bonny gown and wear it.”

“Oh, I could not accept that.”

“Why? Is my money not sound?”

“There are laws. Sumptuary standards. This cloth is for nobility.”

“I have it on good authority that your family includes a couple of earls and a duke. Peers of the realm.”

“Who are all rotting headless in a midden outside of Newgate.”

“Sell me this cloth, then.”

“I cannot, Cullah.”

“I will pay good money for it. Three pounds and seven.”

I wanted to lead him away from this subject and my plans. “I have a gown to wear. Perhaps you are insulting me that my own garment is not good enough to suit you. Besides, how do I know you know how to dance?”

“I have all the latest steps. Five pounds. I shall give you five pounds.”

“Oh, la!” I was shocked. That was what I expected to ask for the cloth, not what I expected to get for it. “You are persistent, sir.”

Cullah smiled a genuine grin that showed his well-set teeth and sparkling eyes.

Then I smirked and said, “You do not have five pounds.”

“I am known for my persistence, but honesty, too, Miss Talbot. Now, do we have a bargain? Will you wear it? I have bought the cloth and given it to you as a gift.”

“There is not time to make a gown in two weeks. I have other work to do. I must, as you know, make my own living. Perhaps I should not go to any dance. My hands are rough. I have no ladies’ gloves. I have no one to dress my hair but must depend upon myself. My bonnet is old. I have too many freckles.”

“I have something for you besides the haunch of beef, then. But, I will give it only if you promise to wear this cloth on November twenty-fourth. You will be taken by coach, and no drop of rain will dare fall upon you. I was told this might be something a lady would use.” He pulled from his box a parcel wrapped in leather. In his hand the leather wrapping sprang wide and within its folds nestled a great length of ribbon of deepest forest green. It was one of the colors of my embroidery on the lavender linen. There was enough to trim my bonnet and a gown, so that it cunningly set off the colors of the embroidery. I felt myself near swooning with longing to wear something so elegant.

“You, Mr. MacLammond, are attempting to buy my condescension to your plan.”

“Is it working?” The boyish charm in his eyes belied other things I knew of him.

I smiled. When I smiled, he did, too. I reached for the ribbon and said, “I will say this, then. I will accept your gifts of ribbon and beef. I will trim my bonnet with one and my table with the other. As to making myself a gown of this cloth, I know not whether I am able to do such sewing in but two weeks. I would need hoops for a proper farthingale and cords for the back and the stomacher. Lace for the sleeves. But, I will consider it. If I am able to get it done in time, I shall. I will have to have muslin for a pattern. I will need to go to Lexington, then, to purchase the goods to do it and you said it is not safe to travel. Will you take me there?”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“If I return to Concord today, it will be late before I can arrive again the morrow.”

“You could sleep at Goody’s house.”

“Not alone.” When I said nothing, he said, “Now she’s dead, the fairies scurry in the joints of the place. I could barely stand it with my pa there. That place does not rest easy. I could sleep here.”

“I would be ruined if you slept here.”

“I would make you my bride this day, Miss Talbot.”

Warmth mixed with fear filled my heart. I pictured the blushing, stumbling Quaker boy, far nearer my age than Cullah. He was a man, not a boy, and anything he desired I could not hold from him long. I drew myself up as if no fear ever crossed my mind. “I have not been asked to wed, nor have I given such a word to you. There is no priest about, nor a witness. Have you come here to destroy me, then?”

He exhaled, making a noise through his lips. “I would sleep with your loom in the lower room. You bar the door above. You have my word as a gentle suitor that I will not harm a hair on your head. Though given any piece of bark I could manage to make you a bundling board in a trice. It would be a, a loving way to sleep.” He took my hand and kissed my fingers, too tenderly, so that heat passed over and through me as if the sun had burst through a heavy sky on a cloudy winter’s day.

I said, “New Englanders are prodigiously fond of that contraption. It is a wonder every maid has no less than seven children before she is wed.”

“Some may,” he said, and laughed.

After some talk, I felt safe, even confident of his promises, until I said, “Good night, then,” at the top of the stair, preparing to close the door.

“There is only so much temptation a man can withstand. Better place the bar.”

I slammed it in place so he would know it was there. The brigand. The lout. Commoner. Villain. But as I climbed into my bed I felt his presence in the room below me as if the fire in my grate were stoked up for a bitter day outside. To turn my thoughts from him, I imagined making myself a gown from my finest-made cloth. During the night a thrumming from my own insides awoke me, heated desire clawing at my ribs like a caged animal. It took me a moment to connect the feeling to the presence of him below, but the image of Patience writhing with Lukas under the yew trees filled me with disgust and made me shake my head and turn over, determined to sleep.

We departed early for Lexington town. I found the things I needed and spent time studying the gowns of ladies I saw, although most of those on the streets were but servants fetching and carrying. I bought a pair of delicate gloves at a reduced price because they had been torn by a careless customer wearing a ring. I could fix the rip easily enough.

The sun lowered as we left for home, and we walked the road nearly alone.

My mind was full of measuring and where to put tucks and flounces when Cullah said, “There’s a wicked wind.”

“What?”

“Do you not hear it? As if Goody Carnegie is crying on the wind.”

“Perhaps we need a charm against evil, then. Or a prayer, if you be so inclined.”

“I never was one to memorize prayers. It always seemed to me at the times I was in greatest need of God’s helping hand, I couldn’t remember the words. My prayers wouldn’t come except in a scream. Otherwise, I try not to bother the man, like some who has got to ninny over their porridge every moment.”

I leaned toward him and chanted in a low whisper,
“Gum-boo cru-ah-he na clock. Gum-boo du-he-he na’n gaul.”

To my great surprise, he answered with, “
Gum-boo loo-ah-he na lock, Gum-boo tru-he na’n loo-ee.
I thought you knew no Scots.”

“I did not know it was Scottish. Ma said it was Gaelic and as a child I thought that was African.
Go-intay, go-intay, sailtay, sailtay, see-ock, see-ock, oo-ayr.
”

Whether because of the charm against evil on the road, or because we seemed so strange no one would touch us, we made the house safely and in good order. “Now go on with you,” I said. “I have a great deal of work to do if I am to wear a new gown in two weeks.”

“You are quite sure I could not light a fire for you tonight?” The smile on his face was so dark it seemed more foreboding than well-wishing.

“Good day, Cullah MacLammond. I shall await your coach on the twenty-fourth. If I cannot finish this gown I will wear something else.”

“I bought that cloth.”

“Let me see the color of your gold.” I held forth my hand. “A proper lady’s gown is no small feat, yards and yards of cloth, tucking and lacing and twiddly stitches.”

“I will have to pay it in partials.”

“I suspected as much. Then I may have to wear it in partials. I merely promised I would try. Pity you did not buy a professional seamstress, for I am slow at it.” When he was a few feet from my door I called, “Watch for Indians on your way home. See if any of them have aught in coin you could borrow against your debt.”

*   *   *

When the embroidery was finished I held it to the light and admired it. Oh, la! This was cloth for a noblewoman or the vest of a lord. Perhaps it was fitting, then, that I kept it, as a marker, a passage, to my own life.

I made the construction of a new gown my highest goal; it was finished the night I went to the dance with Cullah. His father drove the coach, accompanied by that old parson I had spoken with, so that everything was quite proper. The parson did not recognize me, so I left off questioning him whether he’d seen August.

Cullah did not mention the gown, though he did remark on the ribbon on my bonnet. He seemed at first distant, and sat out more than one dance to confer with the old parson. I said to him that he wore those new boots well and that I hoped he had indeed learned to dance in them. And in truth there was no step at which he was not adept, though he turned about with many girls more than me on that floor. I felt eyes upon us when we danced, and then it seemed they were on him even when I sat. I had to go to the balcony more than once to catch some fresh air, for the place was stifling. He drove me home, begged again to spend the night, and left me, whistling one of the reels loud enough to keep the Indians and fairies at bay. It was the most diverting evening I had ever experienced, with enjoyable food and gracious music.

Then, I did not see or hear from Cullah for a week. I worked at first cheerily, but as time wore on without a word from him, I grew pensive, and felt I had been tricked into this work and the waste of that rich cloth I could have sold for a goodly sum. My trepidation turned to anger, and I put the gown away in my trunk.

One gray morning, I caught the smell of snow coming on the breeze, as subtle as a rose. Something in the breeze carried the faint taste of mint and comfrey tea. And that day, there came a conveyance such as I had only seen in town. A flat wagon, driven by Cullah himself, came rattling up to my house. “Pa told me you have need of this!” he called from the seat. He took down pieces of wood, shaped and honed, carved with designs in parts and painted, too. As he got each piece on the ground and put it into place, turning screws and tapping here and there, a chest began to take shape.

I thought he had brought the old chest in the front of his shop, but this was a new linen press and not the same size at all. “I did not order this,” I said. “Though it is nice.”

Cullah faced me and said, “Jacob said you saw the ones out front. They’re just examples. I thought, after I was here last, that you need something to put your work into, so it doesn’t come to stacking it on the floor. I measured the place by the loom. If I’m any good at my craft, this ought to fit in it.”