“Certainly, Mistress Reeves. What is it you wish to discuss?” I had an idea, but I didn’t mention it.
“I wish to discuss Arthur’s proposal.”
I suppressed a groan. My hunch had been correct, though Arthur was most definitely not a topic I wished to discuss with Mistress Reeves.
I swallowed. “Yes, Mistress?” I waited for her to begin speaking. She sat up straighter and looked out the window, then turned back to me.
“I know, of course, that he proposed to you and that you have asked him for some time before giving him your answer. You and I both know what that means—you do not wish to hurt him, but you do not wish to marry him, either. You can’t be blamed for leading him by the nose the way you have, since your mother is no longer here to guide you and … well, your father, God rest his soul, probably did his best with you.”
I held my breath, in part because her words had incensed me to the point where I needed to hold my tongue and in part because I was waiting to see where this conversation was leading.
“I think it would be to the good of everyone if Arthur is made to understand that you would not be a suitable wife for him.”
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. When I realized how simple I must look, I closed my mouth.
“I know this must come as a surprise to you, but I think Arthur would be better off with someone a bit younger than you, Sarah.”
I was taken aback. I was too old for Arthur? He was older than I by several years, and I was eighteen.
“My husband and I believe it would be wise for Arthur to find a younger wife who is willing to travel to England with him. May I ask why you did not accept his proposal of marriage when he asked?”
I squirmed on my stool, trying to think of a polite way to tell Arthur’s mother why I didn’t want to marry her son. I didn’t say anything for what seemed like ages.
“Please do not misunderstand my motives in not accepting Arthur’s proposal immediately,” I said after a long moment. “You see, I simply felt that Arthur and I do not know one another well enough to be married.”
Mistress Reeves nodded, and I was unsure what she was thinking. She pursed her lips, looking pensive, then spoke.
“I find it interesting that young women nowadays seem to find it necessary to be on inappropriately familiar terms with their betrotheds,” she mused. “When Pastor Reeves and I were betrothed, we had only met a small number of times, and each time we were fully within sight and hearing of our elders. That method has worked well for us, as we have grown fond of each other over the years.”
“Begging your pardon, Mistress, but my parents knew each other well before getting married, and theirs was a union filled with joy and happiness, not merely fondness.”
Mistress Reeves nodded once, slowly. “There is more than one way to go about entering into marriage. Your parents took one route; my husband and I took another route. As for Arthur, I think he requires a wife who has seen less tragedy, less heartache. You understand, of course.”
“Certainly, Mistress,” I said. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or indignant. After all, here was Arthur’s mother solving my problem of having to tell Arthur I could not marry him. But her reasons for objecting to a marriage between me and Arthur left me hurt and sad.
Mistress Reeves seemed to sense that my feelings were at war with themselves.
“My dear, you cannot be blamed for feeling sad and lonely following the deaths of your parents,” Mistress said. “But you understand, don’t you, that Arthur has a gentle constitution and might not know how to cope with a wife who brings such despair to a marriage.”
I was striving to keep my mouth shut. It seemed that Arthur should be permitted to make such decisions for himself. I had to remind myself that this was a good outcome, one that I knew was best for both me and Arthur. I suppose I merely wanted to reject Arthur’s proposal in my own time, on my own terms.
“What do you suggest I do about the proposal?” I asked.
“I am going to speak to Arthur about it,” she replied. “I will tell him that his father and I do not approve of the marriage for the reasons I have given you. There is no need for you to tell him anything further.”
“Thank you for coming today, Mistress Reeves,” I said, standing up and waiting for her to do the same. Implying that she should leave gave me a feeling of strength. I was only a little surprised when she stood up and walked toward the door.
“Thank you for cooperating, Sarah,” she said. I nodded and held the door for her. I wanted to slam it behind her with the power of an ocean wave in a thunderstorm, but I forced myself to remember that, however humiliating her visit, it was saving me from the pain of having to reject Arthur’s proposal.
I needed something to do to stay busy after she left, so I put on my cloak and went into the apothecary. I left the door open so the warmth from the fire would penetrate the frigid air in the shop.
Being so cold turned out to be good for me. I moved about the shop quickly to keep warm, and I was able to tidy up a number of boxes and packets that Pappa had left undone when he died. I worked in the apothecary until the afternoon shadows began to darken the windows, then I went back into the house, surprised at how warm I had become in the shop. I knew I should not be working on the Lord’s Day, but I couldn’t bear the alternative—sitting in the house, thinking about my parents and sinking in grief.
Before leaving the shop, I took Pappa’s ledger from the shelf where he kept it under the counter. As I ate my evening meal, I looked at the ledger next to me on the table. If my parents could have seen me trying to read while I was eating, they would have despaired, but there was no one to scold me, no one to tell me I should pay attention and be thankful for the food in front of me.
No one to eat with, no one to talk to while I ate … I blinked tears away furiously, then turned back to the book, with its columns of numbers and notations.
After I finished eating I took the ledger over to the fire, bringing a lamp with me so I could see better. I spread the ledger on my lap so I could read it better. There, as before, were the columns of numbers that didn’t seem to make sense for an ordinary apothecary. Pappa’s strong script listed amounts that had come in and amounts he had spent for supplies and medicines. The profit was quite large. I knew Pappa kept his money in a locked box in the bedchamber, but I had not even thought to count it since his death. I would have to remember to do that in the morning. It was too dark now to count it correctly.
When I counted the money the next day, I found more coins than I had even realized. My father had been frugal with his spending, and that left me with enough money to live for a moderate time without worrying about coin.
But I needed to make a decision. Richard had started me thinking about the shop, the medicines, and all the time Pappa had spent teaching me about herbs and remedies and medicines. Could I really run the apothecary? A woman, alone?
I wasn’t sure. What would people think? Would they scorn me for not being as smart as a man? For not having the business acumen one needed to run such a shop? For having the audacity to think I could turn a profit as my father had?
My thoughts turned to Richard. He seemed to think I should take over the apothecary and keep it running. And I did need a source of income, for as much as Pappa had left behind, it wasn’t enough to sustain the apothecary for a long time. I didn’t need much money, but there were certain things I would need and eventually the coins he left would run out.
What else was I capable of doing? I could do all the things most women could do—I could bake, mend, sew, clean, and do farm chores. I could plant and harvest vegetables. But could I make a living doing any of those things? Probably not.
Maybe I should continue Pappa’s practice of helping others and easing the pain of the unwell on the cape. There was no other apothecary for many miles, so I would be providing a valuable service to the people who lived in the village. Mamma always told me I was quick to learn, so maybe I could run Pappa’s shop.
I made a decision that day—I would try it.
And once the decision was made, I was excited. This gave me a new reason for hope and purpose, and I could hardly wait to begin telling people.
I planned to tell Patience first, but something happened to alter my plan. The next day I was cleaning in the apothecary when there was a tap at the window. Glancing up, I saw Richard smiling at me through the clean glass. I hurried to let him inside.
“Richard, I must thank you for giving me encouragement the last time I saw you,” I began, my words tumbling out in my excitement.
“Encouragement? Of what sort?” He took his hat off as he entered the room.
“I have come to an important decision. I am going to continue my father’s work as the apothecary.”
Richard’s smile warmed me to my very bones. “I am very happy to hear it, Sarah. I hoped you would reach that decision. I think you will make a fine apothecary.”
“Thank you.” I am quite sure I blushed. “What brings you here today?”
“I thought you might like to get out of the house and go for a walk with me.”
“I would certainly enjoy that,” I said.
“Shall we be off, then? I’ll wait while you get your cloak.”
I hurried to retrieve my cloak from its peg near the front door of the house, then I called to Richard, “Would you please make sure the door is bolted in the apothecary?”
I heard the bolt slide across the door and a moment later Richard joined me in the house. He offered me his arm as we went out the front door and I slid my arm under his. His strong arm kept me from slipping on the ice outside the door.
It felt so different from the time Arthur did the same thing.
We walked along the road leading to Town, not speaking except to comment on the weather. It was a pleasant walk. When we neared Town, I put my arm down at my side, lest anyone think I was the kind of young woman who would gad about with any man who arrived at my door. Richard was different—he was my friend, but the people in Town didn’t know that.
Richard stopped walking for a moment. “I have an idea. Let’s to go the tavern and toast your decision to take over your father’s role as apothecary.”
“That isn’t necessary, Richard. I do not wish to make a fuss over myself.”
“You won’t be making a fuss. I will. Would you allow me to do that?”
I smiled. He seemed so keen to do this simple thing, so I agreed. He opened the door of the tavern for me and I preceded him into the cozy darkness of the large room.
There were only a few people inside, owing to the early hour of the day, but all eyes were upon us as we sat down on two stools at a rough-hewn table. Richard nodded to a table where three men were sitting, not saying anything to each other. Each of them nodded to him in return. They were frightening. They were covered with dirt, and I could smell the odors from their clothes from across the room.
Richard gestured for me to take the stool with my back to them so I wouldn’t have to look at them. He ordered two flips from Mister Ellis, the tavern keeper, and I watched as Mister Ellis plunged the hot fire poker, or flip-dog, into the mixture of ale, rum, molasses, and cream to make it frothy and warm. He served the drink in large mugs, and I wrapped my hands around my mug, breathing in the delightful scent of the steam. It was pleasantly warm in the room. Richard toasted my success as the new apothecary and I joined him in sipping the flip. It slid down my throat, warming me from the inside out. I sipped the drink slowly so I could savor every drop.
After a quarter of an hour, another person came into the tavern. We all turned to look at the newcomer; it was Ada, she of the braying laugh. She spoke coquettishly to the tavern keeper for a moment or two, then slid a piece of mail across the counter to him, and was gone. As the tavern keeper was charged with holding the mail for occasional delivery to and from Town, he knew everyone. Very shortly after she left, the town’s cooper came inside. Richard noticed him with a look of recognition and turned to me. “Would you excuse me for just a moment? I do need to have a word with that gentleman.”
“Of course.”
Richard approached the cooper with a smile and, taking the man’s elbow gently, led him outside. I looked down at my flip, wondering what his business with the cooper could be, then looked up again and took in my surroundings. The keeper was behind a long counter, cleaning something. A fire burned cheerfully in the fireplace, which was much bigger than ours at home. The tavern felt safe and warm.
The three men behind me were talking in low voices, and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation—until I heard one of them utter the name “Eli.” I was immediately alert.
I leaned back on my stool just a tiny bit, straining my ears to hear anything they might say. They didn’t seem to notice that I was listening.
“Aye, he’s a hang in chains, that you can believe. And he’s been so for years. There’s talk that the auld buzzard was overfond of a woman right here in Town a couple of years back,” one of them said. I held my breath so my breathing wouldn’t impair my ability to hear.
“The poor woman,” one said with a laugh.
“Aye, he says she would have sailed off wif him, too, if she hadn’t disappeared.”
“I’d disappear if the likes of him came lookin’ for me,” the third said with a cackle.
They were talking about my mother. The implications of their words set my mind spinning.
I was too stunned to move. I must have looked ghastly, because when Richard came back into the tavern with the cooper, he took one look at me and rushed to my side.
“What’s happened, Sarah?”
I could only shake my head. Sound rushed about between my ears and I had the feeling I was going to faint. I took great gulps of air as Richard demanded a cold drink from the tavern keeper. The man rushed over with a tankard of ale, and Richard held it to my lips. There was so much commotion that I couldn’t hear anything else from the table of men behind me. I tried turning my head to look at them, to see their faces, but Richard was holding the tankard to my mouth again. I took a sip and coughed until Richard set it down on the table, an anxious look in his eyes.
“Sarah, can you tell me what happened?”
“We have to leave here now,” I sputtered.
He took several coins from the pocket around his waist and left them on the table. He turned to help me rise from my stool, but I was already standing on my own, ready to leave. I cast a backward glance at the three men at the table behind me, and all of them were looking at me with bold stares. Richard gave them a dark look and they looked down at their own drinks. Then Richard took my arm and we left the tavern.
Outside in the cold air I began to feel better. I didn’t feel faint anymore and I was eager to go home. I only wish I hadn’t become so agitated, because I might have been able to hear more.
“Sarah, can you tell me what happened?”
“Richard, those men behind me. Those men at the table. They were talking about Captain Eli and my mother.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
I repeated what the men had said. “There is only one woman who went missing from Town two years ago, and that was my mother.”
“They could be mistaken,” Richard said. The tone of his voice suggested that even he did not believe what he was saying.
I shook my head vehemently. “No, it was my mother. Richard, how could she have allowed any attentions from a man other than my father? How could she have allowed it and not said anything?”
“We don’t know that she didn’t say anything to your father. It’s possible that your father knew about it.”
I was reminded of the letter from Grandmamma. The thought that Pappa may have known about the captain calmed me a bit, though I was still distressed to think a man like the repellant Captain Eli had been bothering my mother.
“Where do you suppose he wanted to sail with her?” I asked.
Richard shrugged. “From what little I know of Captain Eli, he frequently sailed to and from the West Indies.”
“Where are the West Indies?” I asked.
“Far south of here. The weather is beautiful there.”
I wondered for a terrible moment if my mother would have liked to live in a place with beautiful weather. “Do they have winter there?” I asked.
“No. It’s warm all the year through.”
Mamma would have liked that. She had often said the winters were her least favorite part of living in New Jersey. She had always said the winters in England were preferable because they were milder. Warm weather in the winter might have appealed to her. I shuddered again.
“Sarah, you must remember that your mother loved your father and you and would never have left either of you.”
“How do you know?” I winced at the challenge in my voice.
“I know because of what your father has said about her. He talked about her often, you know. He loved her and she loved him. Even if the weather had been perfect all year somewhere else, she never would have given a thought to leaving her family behind.”
I looked down at my hands, embarrassed that I had had the gall to question my mother and that Richard, who had never known her, was sure in his conviction that she would never have left her family behind willingly.
Willingly.
We had been walking briskly, but I stopped suddenly when a sinking fear overcame me. “Richard! I’ve had a terrible thought. Do you suppose Captain Eli took her away? Do you suppose he took her somewhere against her will?”
“I suppose we would have to find out where Captain Eli was before he settled on this cape. If he sailed somewhere directly following your mother’s disappearance, it is certainly possible that your mother was aboard that ship.”
I gasped.
“Let’s not make rash assumptions,” Richard cautioned. “It could be that Captain Eli was in port for months after your mother went missing. In that case, I am sure she was not kept a prisoner on his ship. Too many men would have been aware of it and word would have spread.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
“How do you know?”
“I have ways of knowing which needn’t trouble you.”
I frowned. I didn’t like Richard’s implications. It sounded to me like he was involved in something nefarious, something I would be better off not knowing.
I shook the thought off, though, grateful instead that there was someone helping me to solve the mystery of what happened to my mother. His secrets were none of my business.
But still … I kept wondering about him long after he left my house that day.
Neither my inquisitiveness regarding Richard nor my frustration over not knowing anything more about Captain Eli abated over the next several days. I thought constantly about ways to find out more about the captain, but I discarded each idea as foolhardy or dangerous or both.
While I tried to come up with a way to get the information I needed, I had plenty to keep me busy in the apothecary. I dusted and cleaned jars and bottles, and peeked inside boxes and packets to see what I might find. I discovered that my father had a physick book he kept in the apothecary, probably for research on ailments and remedies. I found it fascinating, and I settled down in the afternoons to read it by the fire. It wasn’t a story, like the other books we had brought with us from England, but instead it contained facts and information that would be useful to someone treating illnesses.
As word of my new position as apothecary had spread throughout the village and to the scattered farms surrounding it, people who had stopped coming to the apothecary upon Pappa’s death started to return. Some were clearly unsure of a young woman taking over her father’s business, so I knew it would take time for them to trust me and to understand that Pappa had taught me well. If I could persuade them, I knew I could do a good job taking care of them and their families when someone was ill or hurt.
Less than a week after my fateful eavesdropping in the tavern, I had occasion to return to the tavern to leave a letter for the post to Philadelphia. It contained an order of supplies that I required in the apothecary and I hoped someone would retrieve the mail soon. The tavern was quiet on the day I visited. I had held out hope that the men whom I had heard talking on my last visit would be there again, but no one was inside except for the tavern keeper who was standing behind the gleaming wooden counter. He and I exchanged pleasantries for a few moments, then I gave him the letter and bid him goodbye. The street was nearly deserted when I went back outside. The wind was blowing fiercely, so I turned away from the wind to turn up the collar of my cloak. I was surprised to see Richard striding toward the water, coughing into the scarf he wore tightly wrapped around his neck. His form was unmistakable, and I fancied I could see Pappa’s boots on his feet from where I stood.
Something in my mind urged me to hurry after him—this might be an opportunity for me to find out more about this man who revealed so little about himself.