Who’d have thought George Washington would have the audacity to order the military to travel in this miserable weather?” Tuck shook his head, and rain dripped from all three corners of his cocked hat. “It’s takin’ weeks.”
Riding beside his friend as they headed for the Wills Creek Station, the first in a string of trading posts stretching all the way to the Ohio Valley, Colin chuckled and tugged his heavy wool cape closer. “Just be glad we’re not walkin’ in this muck like most of the other boys.” He glanced back at the nearly three hundred men trudging up a trail heavily wooded on either side. Two loaded wagons lumbered slowly along, spitting mud at the grim-faced militiamen slogging along behind. A small herd of cattle churned through at the rear.
At least they were moving. Several times on the trip, the teams of horses had been unable to pull the wagons up a steep hill, and the men had to unload the crates and sacks and lug the supplies up through the slick mire themselves. With heavy rain and sleet hindering their progress, the group was making very poor time in reaching a post less than 150 miles from Alexandria.
Colin looked ahead, where George Washington rode at the front of the column. George expected his men to arrive at the trading post within the hour and rest there for a few days. Thank heaven.
Tuck edged his chestnut mount closer to Colin’s and muttered a comment he’d made at least half a dozen times already. “The French enjoy their creature comforts far too much to be out in this freezing mess, you know.” He exhaled a frosty breath. “I don’t think George should’ve been put in charge of this expedition. He’s too young, and we both know it.”
Colin gave a nonchalant shrug. “Perhaps. But he does have some experience, at least. He’s been comin’ out here for the last three or four years surveyin’. If nothin’ else, he knows the area. We don’t. He also knows where the French are. He’s even parlayed with ’em.”
“And let us not forget,” Tuck grumbled, “he’s a particular friend of Lord Fairfax—”
“Who has Governor Dinwiddie’s ear.” Colin checked to make sure the men behind them weren’t eavesdropping, then turned forward again.
“So.” Tuck swiped a droplet off his nose. “He gets to decide that the rest of us catch our death out here in the elements. I should’ve stayed home. With everybody else gone, I would’ve had a clear field with lovely little Tori.”
Colin narrowed his gaze. “No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t be alone with her. I’d be there to keep an eye on you.”
“Ha! Like your mother watched you when you were sniffin’ around your Mariah?”
My Mariah. So easily Colin’s mind filled with thoughts of his English beauty, recalling the expressive violet eyes that stole his breath, the sound of her soothing voice….
Tuck snorted. “You’re far worse than me, old man. When it comes to a winsome belle, you end up talkin’ out of both sides of your mouth.”
“You’re right.” Colin couldn’t help the sappy grin that quirked his lips. “But then, you were no better when it came to your older sister Trudie, as I recall.”
Tuck’s laugh met a swift end as he stopped and stared toward the front of the line.
A rider approached.
“I wonder who that could be.” Colin heeled his mottled gray horse, Storm, forward and veered around the few rows of militia separating him from the front.
Tuck followed suit.
The burly rider reached Washington at the same time Colin and Tuck did. Soaked and muddy as his panting horse, he rendered a sloppy salute. “Sir, thank God you’ve come. The last of our men are just now stragglin’ into Wills Creek Station.”
“What men?” Washington’s pocked face was stone rigid. “I was told the British regulars wouldn’t arrive for another week or so.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about that, sir. I’m with Lieutenant Trent. We was overrun by the French.”
“I assume you’re speaking of William Trent, are you not?” Frowning, George guided his mount closer to the newcomer.
“Yessir, I am. But he wasn’t there when they come upon us. The first lieutenant left to get more supplies. Ensign Ward was in charge.”
“And you say the French attacked you. Where was that, exactly?”
The man shook his head. “They didn’t attack us, exactly. They come from upriver. Hundreds of ’em, in bateaux and canoes. And they brung cannons. I counted eighteen, myself. They had ’em all lined up, pointin’ right at us.”
Colin exchanged glances with Tuck. The French weren’t holed up taking it easy during the winter weather after all. They’d gone down an ice-cluttered river, ready for battle. With cannons, no less. Definitely not good news.
“Sir,” the bearded messenger continued, “there was only forty-one of us, an’ our fort weren’t near finished. Anyways, them Frenchies told us they wouldn’t do us no harm iffen we’d leave and never come back. So you see, sir, we didn’t have no choice.”
Appearing to mull the information over briefly, Washington nodded with a calmness that surprised Colin. “Has Lieutenant Trent rejoined you?”
“Yessir. We met up on the trail. A good thing, too, ’cause we was gettin’ a mite hungry, us bein’ short of food, an’ all.”
Washington gave him another polite nod. “Well, thank you for informing me of the situation. Ride on back and inform your superiors we will be there shortly.”
As the hefty militiaman snapped a salute and rode away, George turned to Colin, looking every inch the confident leader. “The French have taken the fort Lieutenant Trent was building where the Allegheny from the north and the Monongahela from the south join and become the Ohio River.” He frowned and shook his head. “It’s the most strategic location on the frontier. Whoever controls that spot controls all the waterways. It’s vital that we take it back.”
“Thomas Everard is a gentleman of standing here in Williamsburg,” Mrs. Barclay remarked as the carriage drew up before a wood-framed townhome somewhat more modest, but no less charming, than some of the elegant mansions they’d passed. “He’s the clerk of the General Court, you know.”
Captivated momentarily by the sight of the Governor’s Palace sitting like a jewel at the northern end of the broad street, Mariah nodded politely and returned her attention to the gable-roofed dwelling kitty-corner to it where they’d be staying during their visit. In all likelihood, it would contain furnishings as fine as any possessed by the Barclay family and their other affluent friends. She followed the family up the brick walkway to the front door, while Lizzie remained with the luggage.
The fashionably attired matron of the house rushed forth the moment the servant ushered the party inside. Tall and slender of bearing, she looked to be several years younger than Mistress Barclay. “Cora, Cora. I am so glad you’ve arrived. I’ve been on tenterhooks awaiting your visit ever since I received your letter.”
As the women gushed their greetings to each other, Mariah’s eyes drank in the richness of the central hall with its wainscoting and a fine staircase with elaborately turned balusters and sweeping handrails. The step brackets were richly ornamented with intricate carvings. Large urns positioned on cherrywood pedestals overflowed with fresh flowers emitting a heady fragrance into the air.
“Why, you’re as beautiful as ever, I vow,” Mistress Everard breathed. “And this can’t be little Victoria, all grown up and so pretty.” She released Mistress Barclay and took Tori’s hands then reached for Heather. “And you, my dear, must have grown at least five inches since last we saw you.”
“I can play the flute and violin now, too.” Heather never missed an opportunity to mention her new talent.
“Oh my.” The mistress placed a hand to her bosom. “How wonderful. You must play something for us later.”
Just as the woman was about to turn to Mariah, what sounded like a herd of horses on the floor above came galloping toward the staircase. Down came two young girls, ruffles and lace billowing and bouncing, their sausage curls flying out. “Amy! Heather!” one of them called.
“Girls! Do calm yourselves!” A bit flustered, their mother turned back to her guests with a puzzled expression on her exquisite features. “Where is our darling Amy? I don’t see her.”
“I’m afraid Amy wasn’t up to traveling aboard the packet, Diana,” Mistress Barclay explained. “She’s been having trouble with an upset stomach of late.”
Mariah darted a glance to Tori and Heather to make sure they didn’t blurt out the truth—that their little sister would rather sleep out in the stable with the horses than go shopping and attend plays, much less put up with what she considered silly, giggly, little girls.
The lady of the house shook her elegantly coifed head, her shining dark curls reflecting light from wall sconces. “How unfortunate. Francis and Martha were so looking forward to seeing her.”
The joy on the faces of the young sisters wilted, and the older one, who appeared about seven, let out a whine. “Amy’s not here? But I drew her a really pretty picture.”
Her mother cupped her chin. “Darling, I’m sure Victoria and Heather would love to see your picture.”
The youngest one, possibly five years of age, piped up. “Mine, too.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Mistress Everard turned to the Barclay girls. “Would you mind going upstairs with my daughters? They’ve been working on a surprise for you girls since we received word you were coming.”
“Of course not.” Victoria’s enthusiastic tone did not match her frozen smile as she cut a sidelong glance at her sister. “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Heather?” Snatching her sister’s hand, she headed for the staircase and trailed up the steps after the giggling youngsters.
As the noisy group took their leave, the mistress turned back to Mariah. “And who is this attractive young lady you’ve brought with you, Cora?”
“La, forgive me, Diana. I should have introduced you.” Mistress Barclay smiled at Mariah. “She’s our private tutoress. We wanted someone a touch more educated and sophisticated for our girls than was offered at Miss Bridgestone’s Academy. I’m most pleased to introduce Miss Mariah Harwood, from Bath, England. She’s not only a wonderful instructress in all the womanly arts, but she’s also an accomplished musician—much to our Heather’s delight.”
“Oh my.” The young matron dropped into a quick curtsy. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Mariah returned the curtsy. “And I you.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think wealthy Mistress Barclay was putting on airs for the wife of a clerk, bestowing such lavish compliments. But from the look of this fine home, especially in this colony, it was natural that a man in the governor’s employ would be held in high esteem. Now, it seemed, so was she—so long as there was no mention of her being a bondwoman. Mariah highly doubted her mistress would divulge that. A smile tickled the corners of her lips.
“Oh dear, do forgive my lack of manners. Please join me in the parlor for refreshments.” The hostess swept a graceful hand toward an open doorway, then turned to the uniformed slave who had let them in. “Gladden, would you see that tea is served right away?”
As they ambled into another front room with paneled wainscoting, Mistress Everard came to Mariah’s side. “I’ve always longed to visit England. My husband is from London, and he’s promised to take me there one day. And I do so want to visit Bath while we’re there. But before I ask you a thousand questions, I must catch my dear Cora up on the latest.” She turned to her. “Cora, you are simply not going to believe this….”
If Mariah had been acquainted with any of the individuals mentioned in an animated stream of who did this, who went where, and with whom, perhaps listening to the two matrons seated together on a burgundy-and-ivory-striped settee wouldn’t have been so tedious. She’d all but memorized the delicate porcelain figurines on the walnut mantel, the gold-framed mirror above, and the red window hangings that appeared to be some sort of rich wool.
A sudden burst of flute playing came from the stairwell, evidence that the luggage must have been taken to the upper floor. But the music ceased as suddenly as it began, as if a door had opened and then closed. Then hurried footsteps came down the stairs and tapped across the floor of the great hall. Perhaps the women would stop their infernal gossiping as if Mariah weren’t even there.
Victoria swept through the parlor entrance. “Excuse me, Mother, but you absolutely must let me go to the shops to find another pair of gloves. The ones that go with my sapphire evening gown are not among my things.”
Her mother sent her a condescending look. “Dearest girl, I’m sure you’re mistaken. You took such great pains in laying out all your accessories.”
“I know.” Her expression turned woeful. “I can’t imagine how I forgot them. Please, Mama. I simply cannot wear mismatched gloves.”
Since she’d seen Tori place those gloves into her trunk, Mariah knew the girl was not being truthful. But she wasn’t about to say anything that would cause strife between herself and the sister of her betrothed.
Mistress Barclay drew a deep breath. “You are quite certain you didn’t bring them?”
“Yes. I looked and looked.”
“But we’ve only just arrived, dear. Diana and I are having such a nice chat.”
“No need to interrupt your visit. Mariah could go with me.” Victoria swung a hopeful glance to where Mariah sat across from the matrons. “You wouldn’t mind terribly, would you?”
“No, not at all.” She rose. “A walk would be refreshing after that long journey aboard ship.”
Her mother swung a slightly suspicious glance between the two of them. “Very well. But be back in plenty of time to dress for dinner. We shouldn’t want to look shoddy for the secretary to the governor, now, should we?”
“Of course not, Mother.” Tori reached for Mariah’s hand.
“Do you have enough money with you?”
“Yes, Mother. Thank you.” She tugged Mariah toward the entrance.
“That girl,” Mariah overheard the mistress comment as Victoria ushered her to the front door. “She may think she’s matured, but she acts the silly, thoughtless child at times.”
Moonstruck would be more like it, Mariah reasoned as she accompanied Tori out into the lovely spring afternoon.
They set a fast pace in the direction of Market Square.
“Thank you for rescuing me.”
Victoria laughed. “Rescuing both of us. What with Heather’s shrill flute playing and the little girls’ screaming, I just had to get out of there.” She caught Mariah’s hand and slowed her pace as she leaned close. “Look ahead. Two handsome young men are peering into that apothecary window.” Straightening her shoulders, she toyed with a curl dangling by her ear and hiked her chin as if she planned to ignore them.
Mariah knew it was merely a ploy to get their attention. She’d taught Tori that trick herself.
And of course it worked. Before the two of them reached the finely attired young men, they’d turned to stare.
The bolder of the two, slim, with light brown hair and eyes, grinned and tipped his cocked hat as he stepped into Victoria’s path. “Good afternoon, lovely ladies. Or should I say, the loveliest young maidens ever to grace our fair city.”
Completely disregarding all that Mariah had taught her, Tori giggled and extended a hand. “Why, what a gallant thing to say.”
“But quite true.” The other young man, lanky and somewhat taller, with russet hair and green eyes, bowed before Mariah and reached for her hand.
“Excuse me. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Though said as a proper chaperone should, her smile betrayed her good intentions.
The first fellow, still holding Victoria’s hand, spoke up. “If you two are attending the play tomorrow evening, I’m sure I can arrange a proper introduction then. In the meantime, for convenience’s sake, I’m Willard Dunn, son of Dr. Arliss Dunn, physician to our honorable governor. And my friend is Ronnie—”
“Ronald Sedley,” his pal corrected, puffing out his chest. “My father is in shipping, out of Yorktown.”
“How lovely.” Victoria practically meowed. “I’m afraid our family merely farms and raises Thoroughbred horses. I’m Victoria Barclay, of Barclay Bay Plantation, near Alexandria. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Oh, and this is our Mariah.”
The words plantation and Thoroughbred seemed to impress them.
As both men again bowed, Mariah realized that Victoria had included her in the family. She decided not to correct her. “We’re very pleased to meet you, but we really must be on our way. We have some purchases to make for the play tomorrow evening.” She withdrew her hand as the pair continued to stare. “We’ll be most pleased for a proper introduction then.” She took Victoria’s arm and prodded her onward.
The girl glanced back and waved. “Tomorrow eve…”
After they’d gotten far enough away, Tori turned to her. “Why did you do that? They were so handsome and—”
“I agree. However, we know nothing about them, and a small bit of encouragement is sufficient until we do.”
“But they just told us—”
“And everything they said could have been lies. That is why a proper introduction is always vital. They know it just as well as we do.”
“Fine!” With a huff, Tori jerked her arm free. “Well, what I do know is that those attentive gentlemen saw no need to go riding out into the wilderness, leaving me with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs.”
The last words struck hard. Mariah hadn’t been twiddling her thumbs for a mere few weeks. Colin had been gone for months, only to return for less than an hour before he was off again.
“I’m gonna flirt with every good-lookin’ bachelor I see while we’re here,” Victoria drawled as she increased the pace. “Mayhap I’ll find a beau or two willin’ to come visit me at the plantation. Isn’t Mother always wantin’ me to marry a merchant’s son? Well, I just might give that Mr. Sedley some extra attention.”
The girl was proving to be quite headstrong. Thank goodness, Mistress Barclay would accompany them to the play. Mariah changed the subject. “There’s that millinery shop the hawker at the wharf said had a shipment of fabrics. They might have gloves as well.” She pointed to a tidy wooden building just ahead that held a display of feminine accessories in its window.
“You know very well that I don’t need gloves.”
“True. But we’d better not return without some. I, for one, wish to remain in your mother’s good graces.”
Never had she uttered truer words. Mistress Barclay could very well become her mother-in-law before the end of summer. And though Mariah had never been known for her patience, she had to remain true to Colin while she awaited his return. Please, Lord, bring Colin home soon.
Mariah wasn’t sure how much longer her patience would stay her. Those obviously prosperous young men were entirely too tempting.