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AUGUST 1617
The following Sabbath dawned sunny and hot. Catherine, Nancy, and Lad set out for services a good half hour before the church bells summoned the settlers to worship. Catherine wished to arrive early in order to speak privately with Reverend Buck in regard to the matter of the English children no longer attending classes due to the presence of the Indian boy and girl.
She was disappointed, however, to find a notice posted on the meetinghouse door saying Reverend Buck had fallen ill, and an interim minister would be delivering the sermon.
“I do hope we will not lose Reverend Buck to the fever,” Nancy murmured.
“I had no idea swamp fever was so very treacherous or prevalent. Thank the Lord our entire family has escaped it these last months.”
They soon met up with Adam and Abigail and the Morgans, who came into Jamestown now via the river. When everyone was seated, the service commenced. As was customary before the reverend delivered his sermon, prayers were offered up for the family members of those colonists who’d succumbed to illness the past week. That only three Jamestown settlers had recently perished gave them all reason to rejoice.
“Perhaps the pestilence is near over,” intoned Reverend Giles. “We thank our dear Lord for sparing so many of us during these blistering days of illness and fever.”
Even though the church house shutters and front door stood wide open, many of those seated in the congregation began to fan themselves with their prayer books. Some used leaves plucked from the trees outdoors as fans. Apparently the whooshing sounds began to annoy the reverend, for as his face grew redder from the heat, his voice grew louder. Suddenly, he announced it was time for the closing song and prayer.
Following the final amen, he hurriedly said, “If there are no further announcements . . .”
From her pew, Catherine leapt to her feet, her quick action startling those around her. “I have something to say, Reverend Giles, if you please.”
“Uh . . . indeed. And, you are?”
“Mistress Fielding, sir.”
The congregation grew as silent as a tomb as all eyes focused on Catherine, everyone wondering what the attractive young lady had to say.
In somewhat of a daze herself over her boldness, Catherine skirted past both Abigail and Margaret Morgan and hastened to the platform so she might stand facing the parishioners.
“As you recall,” she began, in a rather shaky voice, “when Reverend Buck first announced the opening of my . . . Missionary School, he and, at that time, Deputy-Governor Yeardley were both greatly pleased that there was now a place where Jamestown’s boys and girls might learn to read and write. In addition,” her voice grew more steady as she progressed, “I also recall Reverend Buck mentioning that our close neighbors, the Indians . . .” she put special emphasis on that word, “were to be invited to send their children to learn as well from our Anglican Prayer Book. This week, I welcomed my first Indian pupils, a boy and a girl.”
A rustling noise from the back of the building interrupted Catherine.
“Who come to school naked!” cried a woman.
Amidst gasps of alarm, Catherine recognized little Patience Riverton’s mother.
“That is not entirely true, Goodwife Riverton. The boy is naked only from the waist up and the girl is quite properly clothed. However, if the child’s nakedness, as you call it, is your only concern, then may I appeal to the generous natures of the good citizens of Jamestown for the donation of a shirt for a bright little boy who has already learned nearly all his ABC’s and has taught my other pupils to count in his native tongue.” She paused, and when no one said a word, she added, “My lesson plans for next week include the memorizing of the Ten Commandments.”
Unable to think of anything further to say, she turned toward the reverend who was staring dumbfounded at her from behind the pulpit.
“That is all I have to say, sir.”
“Very well, then.” When she’d left the platform and Reverend Giles had regained his composure, he addressed the congregation. “As Mistress Fielding has so eloquently reminded us, the Indians are our neighbors, and as we have been taught to love our neighbors as ourselves, might I inquire who amongst you has a small boy’s shirt you’d be willing to donate to . . . uh, Mistress Fielding’s pupil?”
* * * *
“I DARESAY YOU SET THE colony on its ear this morning, sis,” Adam said as the family stood clustered together on the green.
Catherine thrust her chin up. “That, dear brother, was precisely my intention.”
“How many shirts were donated?” Abigail asked, a grin of amusement on her face, rounder now as her pregnancy progressed.
“Three. Lad is on his way even now to collect them.”
“Which reminds me,” Adam said, “I mean to have a talk with Lad. I hope he has done as I asked and added another layer of rushes to your roof.”
“No.” Catherine sighed. “He has not. Truth to tell, Lad has become somewhat unruly of late, going off on his own for long periods. I sometimes haven’t a clue where he is.”
“I feared it might come to that. As soon as tobacco cutting is done, I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Thank you, Adam.” Catherine glanced around and realized then that not only was Lad not there, but neither was Nancy. However, spotting Noah and his little wife Charity conversing with her parents a few yards away, Catherine’s breath caught in her throat. Noah was looking straight at her. Their eyes locked for a long moment before Catherine grew flustered and looked away.
Just then, Nancy returned accompanied by two young men, neither of whom Catherine recognized.
“Catherine,” Nancy began in a confident tone, which startled Catherine as it was the first time Nancy had ever used her given name in public without “miss” attached to it. “I should like to introduce you to two of Jamestown’s newest colonists. This,” she said, indicating the taller of the men, who had nut-brown hair and smiling brown eyes, “is Jack Lancaster. And this,” she said, turning to the other fellow, who had wavy black hair and blue eyes, “is Victor Covington. They arrived a few months ago on the George.”
Before Catherine said a single word, she cast a quick glance toward Noah to see if he might still be looking her way. Noting that he was, a ripple of pleasure coursed through her. Holding her auburn head at a tilt, she smiled sweetly. “Welcome to Jamestown, gentlemen. I am very happy to meet both of you.”
The men nodded but Victor edged closer to her. “So, you are Jamestown’s Dame Teacher?”
“Yes, I am.” He had a pleasant smile and was really quite handsome. Though not as tall and lean as Jack, he stood a good head and shoulders taller than she and had a sturdy, muscular build.
Adam stepped up to introduce himself and to present his wife and the Morgans to the men. “You fellows must be settled in by now.”
“Indeed, we built a cottage down by the river.” Jack jabbed a thumb over one shoulder.
“And cleared a piece of land to plant a few rows of corn,” Victor added. “Might be too late in the season for a decent crop, but. . . .”
“Not necessarily.” Adam shook his head. “If the heat holds, which it easily could on into October, ye’ll likely get a bushel or more for your efforts. Which will satisfy the governor’s mandate. We’re cutting tobacco leaves in my fields now. Men are working into the night to hang what they cut during the day. Could take us another month or so. I could use some help if ye’d be interested.”
Both men brightened and in seconds a deal was struck.
When the sunshine became too hot on their backs, her brother and his wife turned to go. But not before Catherine overheard Margaret telling Abigail she thought it was simply wonderful that little Charity Colton was again with child.
A pang of jealousy shot through Catherine. Her blood pounded against her temples, and she became so upset and preoccupied over the news she was hardly aware when the two men fell into step beside her and Nancy as they all set off for home.
Though she chastised herself for having such impure thoughts, and although she knew she had no right to begrudge Noah pleasure in his marriage, she had thought, nay, hoped, that perhaps he had grown tired of his child-bride, and perhaps that was why he’d been coming to see her. Obviously that was not the case.
Thinking over the events of the day as she lay in bed that night, she realized she didn’t recall anything anyone said on the walk home that afternoon. She knew she was being silly, but she hoped Noah had at least seen the gentlemen walking beside her and Nancy.
* * * *
ALTHOUGH SHE WAS STILL upset over the news regarding Charity, the following morning Catherine knew a moment’s satisfaction when not only little Patience Riverton returned to school, but David Shores also showed up.
She watched for Tamiyah and hurried out to meet her before her children entered the house. Handing the Indian woman two of the three shirts that had been donated after Sabbath services, she asked that Pamoac be allowed to wear a shirt when he came to school. Without a word, the Indian woman draped the somewhat faded garment over the boy’s small shoulders, and he shrugged into it, turning a bright smile on Catherine as she bent to fasten the buttons. Catherine had decided to hold onto the other one in case another Indian boy showed up for classes one day and might need it.
That night over their evening meal, Nancy surprised Catherine by mentioning a supper that the two of them would be hosting for Jack Lancaster and Victor Covington on Wednesday night.
Catherine looked quizzical. “When did this come about?”
“Ye don’t recall?” Nancy returned Catherine’s quizzical look. “Yesterday, just before the gentlemen departed, I turned to you and asked if Wednesday would suit, and you said, ‘Certainly.’ Ye don’t recall?” she asked again.
Catherine sighed. “Forgive me, Nancy. I expect I was still thinking about what had happened at services. The loss of two of my students had quite overset me. But . . .” she smiled, “it has all worked out splendidly. So, we invited the gentlemen to dinner, and they agreed to come, did they?”
“Indeed.” Nancy’s pleasure was evident. “They said they’d be delighted. I thought I’d prepare scrapple again, since we all liked it so well. And for dessert, if ye don’t mind, I’d like to use the last of the dried apples and pears for a nice apple cobbler. I don’t think the addition of pears will spoil the taste, do you?”
Again Catherine wasn’t listening. When she realized Nancy had asked her another question, she said, “I’m certain whatever you prepare will be well-received, Nancy. You’ve become quite an accomplished cook.”
Nancy appeared to warm to the compliment. “I am very happy here, Catherine.” She grinned. “You see, I’ve even learned to address ye by yer given name.”
Catherine smiled. “I daresay it’s about time.”
They laughed and, rising from the table, picked up their soiled wooden bowls and spoons and took them outdoors to wash in the bucket of freshwater Lad had set by the doorstep for that very purpose. He, by now, was nowhere to be seen.
* * * *
ON WEDNESDAY EVENING, Victor and Jack arrived just as Nancy was pulling the long-handled griddle out of the new fireplace oven that the deputy-governor’s men had constructed. Sitting atop the griddle was Nancy’s hot apple cobbler.
“My, that smells delicious,” said Jack, reaching to take the contraption from Nancy’s hands before the sizzling cobbler slid into the ashes. “Where shall I set it?”
Nancy pointed to one of the empty board tables at the far end of the room. On another, she had laid out four clean trenchers, spoons, and the platter containing the fried scrapple. A gouged-out gourd contained steamed corn kernels and another held hot greens and bacon bits.
Hearing voices, Catherine entered the common room from her bedchamber. She had just come in from weeding her herb garden and needed to tidy up before the gentlemen arrived. She greeted the men, thinking they looked fresh in their white linen shirts, puffed breeches, dark hose, and buckled shoes.
She and Victor slid onto one of the backless benches with Nancy and Jack on the opposite side. In moments, Lad burst into the house. “Smells good in here! What’d ye fix tonight, Nan?”
Nancy picked up a trencher at her elbow, which she’d already filled with scrapple and corn and handed it to him. “Here’s your supper, Lad. Take it out to the lean-to. As ye can see, Mistress Fielding and I have guests.”
Catherine smothered a grin, thinking Nancy had the situation well in hand.
Lad took the trencher, but continued to cast longing looks at the apple cobbler, the aroma of which was making everyone’s mouth water. “But . . .” he glanced down at his plate, “where’s m’ . . . what about the . . .?”
“If there’s any left after we’ve eaten, ye may have a piece. Scoot now.”
Catherine laughed aloud as Lad grudgingly obeyed. “You’ve got the boy better trained than Adam and Abigail ever did.”
“He needs a strong hand, that one.”
The four of them fell to talking about one thing and another, the men telling tales of their crossing, which was still fresh in their minds, and Nancy and Catherine chiming in with reminiscences of their own shipboard journey.
When the meal concluded, they decided to continue their conversation outdoors where it was considerably cooler. They were all laughing aloud at a tale Victor was telling when Catherine looked up and saw Noah approaching.
She rose to her feet as he turned into the short path that led to her front door. “Excuse me, I’ll just be a moment,” she murmured.
Noah walked straight into the house as if he lived there, getting Catherine’s back up. That he was carrying a small bundle told her why he had come and where he was headed.
“You might have waited to be invited in,” she said peevishly, following him into the house.
He had already gained the ladder. “I won’t bother you for long, sweetheart. Just need to . . .” The rest of his words were lost as he reached the loft and stepped onto the loose floorboards there.
Catherine was waiting for him when he came back down, both hands parked on her hips. “So, I hear your little wife is again with child.” Her auburn head sat at a tilt.
“Indeed. Although I fail to see where that is any of your concern.”
Her lips thinned with annoyance. Despite her anger over the fact that he’d not given up being with his wife in that way, she still found him attractive to a fault. Her nostrils flared as she glared up at him.
His long gaze strayed beyond her to the soiled dishes littering the board table. “Did those two jackanapes eat supper with you and Nancy?”
“They are not jackanapes!”
“Well, they’ve no business here that I can see.”
“And that is none of your concern!”
“I don’t want you associating with . . .”
“I will associate with whomever I please!” she retorted.
Holding her angry gaze, he said nothing more; instead, he took a step closer to her and, sliding one strong arm around her trim waist, pulled her to him. His free hand reached to cup the back of her head as his mouth came down hard on hers, his tongue parting her lips to roughly explore the inside of her mouth.
Catherine’s breath quickened as fire shot through her veins. She’d been kissed before by Noah, but not like this! She’d been only twelve then. Now, she wanted only to melt into his embrace and for this delicious moment never to end. But, it had to end! She pushed against his strong chest with both fists until at last he flung her from him.
His smoldering gaze bored into hers as his own breath came in ragged gasps. “You belong to me, Catherine, and don’t you forget it.”
He stalked from the house and, without addressing the other three people seated near the doorway, strode off down the dusty road.
Catherine stood rooted to the spot where she stood, her nostrils a-flare, her breasts rising and falling with pent-up rage and desire.
For the rest of that evening, she did not hear a single word Victor or anyone else said. Noah’s kiss had possessed her very soul. A fact that terrified her.
When the men finally got up to leave, she and Nancy returned indoors to straighten up.
“Is something troubling you, Catherine? You’ve not been yourself since Noah was here.”
Catherine willed herself to remain calm. With a shaky smile, she said, “I have decided I shall not see Noah Colton again.”