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A WEEK BEFORE THE WEDDING ceremony, Adam and two of his men poled their way down the river on a flat barge loaded with a dozen barrels of dried peas, corn, turnips, apples and pears, salted pork, and venison.
Once they arrived in Jamestown, Adam enlisted Victor and Jack’s help. The five men spent a long afternoon hoisting the heavy barrels into the loft of Catherine’s house. Once the task was completed, Adam told Catherine he was taking Lad back with him to the plantation.
“Boy’s not done nearly so well here as I intended. Thatch on the roof is still too thin; chinks in the walls aren’t filled. Guess he plain forgot to shore up a mud wall ’round the outside of the house.”
“He has been difficult to manage,” Catherine admitted. The two stood watching the men haul the last of the empty barrels down from the loft.
“Boy’s growing up fast,” Adam went on. “He needs a strong hand, or there’s no saying what will become of him. I’ve plenty for him to do on the plantation. Jack and Victor will take up the slack once they move in.”
Catherine nodded. “Both men are hard workers.”
The muffled sound of Jack’s voice from above their heads interrupted them. “What about this last one?” he called down. “Less than one eighth full of . . . something.”
Catherine laughed. “That’s soap, Jack.”
“Which ye’ll be needing to make more of come spring,” her brother reminded her.
Catherine heaved a sigh as she watched the men herd the empty barrels outdoors to roll them toward the river where Adam had moored the barge. She was grateful her brother had made good on his word and thankful their larder was now full of food, but, as Adam said, there was still plenty to be done around the place before winter set in.
Because both she and Nancy wanted new gowns in which to be married, Catherine had earlier given Adam money to purchase lengths of frieze or fustian, whichever was available, from the ship’s merchant when he loaded his hogsheads of tobacco onto the bark en route for England. Today, he’d brought the fabric to her.
Fingering the green, Nancy declared it her favorite, which pleased Catherine since she preferred the blue. So, whilst the men tended to the work still to be done on the roof and outside walls, the ladies stayed inside where it was warm, cutting and stitching their new gowns. Catherine ripped some black braid off an old frock to trim the skirts of their new dresses. The effect was pleasing, although they laughed about looking a bit like twins.
Two days before they were to repeat their marriage vows, the temperature plummeted and a thick sheet of ice formed on the river. Catherine didn’t expect Adam and Abigail to make it into town for the wedding ceremony.
That morning snow began to fall, but as planned, Reverend Buck and two other freemen . . . Victor and Jack’s friends who had agreed to stand as witnesses . . . arrived at the house just after noon. The simple ceremony was over quickly, and after the reverend had blessed the newly married pairs, he delivered the customary (though, in this instance, quite short) Marriage Sermon, placing particular emphasis on the wives being obedient to their husbands and reminding both partners that if temperamental difficulties arose in the marriage, they must be faced and not run away from; that they were to answer impatient words kindly, gently, and with loving consideration, and above all, never carry resentment. He reminded the ladies that they must never contradict their husbands, deride them, or desert them. Instead, they were to cherish and comfort their men; study their moods and manners until they became the rule of her life. Thereafter, the good reverend quickly took his leave, wishing to make it across town to his own warm hearth before the falling snow became an all-out blizzard. The freemen lingered, unable to pass up the opportunity to gorge themselves on the warm currant pie Nancy had made to mark the occasion, and to wash it down with mugs of stout ale.
When their guests finally departed, leaving the newlyweds at last alone, Victor set the small bundle he’d brought with him on one of the board tables. He removed from the bundle a few items of clothing, then proudly set out the remainder of his worldly goods: two tin cups and one small earthen pipkin, which Nancy exclaimed over.
“A serving dish! How I’ve wished for one!”
Her new husband’s face fell. “I brought ye a shovel and a warm bed rug, love.”
They all laughed at the hurt tone in his voice.
“Where’s your bed rug?” Jack asked Victor.
He scratched his head.
“Not to worry, my dear,” Catherine said sweetly, “I have a warm bed rug plenty big enough for both of us.”
And it was.
* * * *
AS NOVEMBER GAVE WAY to December, the days grew shorter and colder. Although the newly married couples remained content and happy with their living arrangements, they knew that come planting time, Jack and Nancy would be removing to Harvest Hill where Jack would take up his duties as Adam’s new foreman. For now, both men stayed busy from dawn to dusk in Jamestown doing whatever was needed at home. In addition to hauling water several times a day, fresh logs had to be split daily since the small supply Lad had chopped and stacked had dwindled to near nothing.
After felling some trees along the forest’s edge, they used the branches and twigs for kindling; the cleared land would be used later to grow corn and squash. On one less frigid day, the men enclosed the lean-to. Though it was still a makeshift affair, it now had a thatched roof and a door that opened and closed. Other days they fished in the river, often bringing home a nice sturgeon or mess of herring. Jack had a fowling piece, and the men even attempted to hunt, though that venture proved less fruitful than their efforts on the river. The most they brought home from an entire day of hunting was the occasional rabbit and once a possum, which neither Nancy nor Catherine knew what to do with. Still, the foursome always had plenty to eat and for the most part, remained cheerful and in good spirits.
When Christmastide came, they bundled up as warmly as they could and trudged through the snow to the meetinghouse for a special service. Afterward, the four feasted on roasted turkey and corn. Jack had felled one of the wild birds from the large herds that freely roamed the countryside. After eating their fill, they sat around the table and took turns telling stories of Christmases spent with their families back in England. Catherine grew misty-eyed recalling the happy times she’d shared with both Adam and Noah on the farm. Even the Christmas celebrations she and Nancy remembered with the Montcriefs in London, when small gifts were distributed amongst the servants, were a source of remembered pleasure.
A week later, they toasted in the New Year of 1618 with mugs of hot apple cider. Gathered around their warm hearth on the eve of the New Year, they merrily sang songs recalled from their youth. As the weeks passed, Catherine grew to admire and respect her industrious, hardworking husband, who, after working hard all day, spent his evening hours making plans for the mill he intended to build come spring.
During those early weeks after they married, Catherine willingly allowed Victor to gather her into his arms at night, but after their first few tentative times together, more often than not he merely laid his weary head on her shoulder and quickly fell asleep. Although Catherine knew he was worn out from his hard day’s labor, still, she realized she didn’t really mind, for good and kind as he was, his touch did not quicken her pulse, or set her blood afire.
On the other side of the house, however, Jack could hardly keep his hands off Nancy and vice versa. One could not walk past the other without stopping to pat, tweak, or embrace his, or her, beloved. Catherine knew the warmth between their housemates did not escape Victor’s notice, for more than once, she’d caught a fleeting look of sadness flicker across his face as the lovebirds again pecked one another on the cheek or giggled their delight at being together. At times, after witnessing such a display, Victor would quietly move to stand nearer Catherine, or drag his chair closer to hers and shyly drape an arm across her shoulder to fondle her hair.
Though neither spoke of it, Catherine suspected he rather thought her aloof and unresponsive, and perhaps she was, though she didn’t mean to be. It did dismay her that instead of growing to love him as she’d fully expected, her feelings for her new husband merely remained steady and constant. But she couldn’t help herself. She cared for him; she even felt affection for him, but after two full months of marriage, the truth was, she cared neither more nor less for him than the day they wed.
It began to gnaw at her that her reticence to be openly affectionate with Victor might cause him to stop loving her. Oddly enough, that did distress her. Victor was a good man, and she felt lucky to have such a fine, thoughtful husband . . . but she did not love him and now feared she might never.
She wondered if her inability to love him was because she’d already given her whole heart to another man, and there was nothing left for Victor. If that were the case, then there was nothing to be done for it. She could not change her feelings just because she wanted to. Because she stayed busy each and every day, she rarely had spare moments to think about Noah; still, the deep love in her heart for him had not diminished a whit. She doubted now that anything would be powerful enough to dislodge it. And although she clearly recalled the London clergyman telling Lucinda and herself that a woman’s purpose in life was to multiple her kind, it didn’t surprise her that she was not soon with child. Nancy, on the other hand, was another story.
“Never in all me life did I think I’d be so happy,” she confided to Catherine one cold January day as the girls sat huddled indoors before a warm fire, Nancy stirring the pot of spoon meat she was making for supper, Catherine mending yet another pair of breeches her hardworking husband had ripped apart the day before.
Catherine didn’t look up from her work.
“It’s a bit soon yet,” Nancy went on, a merry lilt to her tone, “but I think my Jack may have already got a babe on me.”
Catherine’s head jerked up. “Nancy, how wonderful!” She smiled widely. “Have you told him?”
“Not yet.” Nancy laughed. “But I couldna’ keep it to meself a minute longer!”
“I’m so happy for you. Truly I am!”
The girls chatted about how lucky they were to have landed such kind and dependable husbands. At length, a faraway look stole into Catherine’s eyes. “My, when we left England less than a year ago, would we have believed such good fortune would befall us?”
“Not I!” Nancy shook her head, causing wisps of brown hair to escape the confines of her tattered white cap. “What do ye think his lord and ladyship would say if they could see us now, both married and snug in our own little house?”
“I’ve often wished I could get word to Lucinda to tell her I’m all right and that you’re here with me, but I guess that’s a silly notion.” A sigh escaped Catherine as she turned back to her mending.
“Our midnight-escape truly turned into a grand adventure!” Nancy enthused.
The girls sat in companionable silence for another quarter hour, then suddenly the door flew open, and on a gust of frigid air, a stricken-faced Jack burst into the room.
Nancy looked up. “What is it, love?”
“Something terrible has happened,” Jack replied, but he wasn’t looking at Nancy when the anguished words tumbled from his mouth.