Virginia Biddlecomb was smiling despite the discomfort, the irritation, and the pain. It was not a genuine smile, more like a grimace she imagined, but it was the best she could manage. As a rule she did not like to let any discomfort show, be it physical or emotional, but with Susan standing there, scrutinizing her, she was particularly adamant on that point.
The family’s sitting room, toward the back of the first floor, was quite warm, even on that chilly early-November day. Nonetheless, Mrs. Temperance Williams, widow, matriarch of the household, had ordered Nelly, the servant girl, to stoke up the fire in the fireplace. And when the girl had failed to do so to Mrs. Williams’ satisfaction, Mrs. Williams had been brushed aside so that she could attend to it herself.
“Honestly, girl, do you want to freeze Mrs. Biddlecomb and her dear baby to death?” Mrs. Williams asked. Virginia could see nothing of her hostess save for the petticoats draped over her ample backside as she bent over the fire, her stout body framed by the blue and white Delft tiles that surrounded the fireplace.
“No, ma’am,” Nelly said dutifully.
If you build that fire up any more, you’re like to roast Mrs. Biddlecomb and her dear baby alive, Virginia thought, but she knew better than to say as much, or to even suggest, in less snide terms, that she was warm enough already. Such an observation would have been dismissed out of hand, and followed up with a lengthy discourse on the proper temperature at which nursing mothers and their babes must be kept.
It had taken a while to acclimate herself to Mrs. Williams, her household, and her daughter, Susan, but Virginia had made considerable progress. She knew now, for instance, when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut, and she was generally good about keeping her mouth shut when necessary. For Virginia Biddlecomb, who tended toward brash outspokenness, that was a steep hill to climb.
Virginia had been a guest for nearly a month now in the Williams’ lovely Philadelphia home, a four-story brick affair on Chestnut Street between Fourth and Fifth. The Williams’, formerly of Rhode Island, were old family friends of Virginia’s father, William Stanton, and her late mother. Temperance Williams had stood as godmother to Virginia at her christening, and her husband, Judge Joseph Williams, also now deceased, as godfather.
The Williams’ had moved to Philadelphia when Virginia was a young child, but the families had always maintained their friendship. When Virginia and Isaac had been married only a few blocks from the Williams’ home, Susan had acted as her bridesmaid. That, in truth, was more the result of the family connection and the fact that Susan was the only young woman Virginia knew in Philadelphia, and not because of any mutual affection, of which there was precious little.
In early autumn of 1777 (which wags were calling the “Year of the Hangman” thanks to the gallows-like appearance of the triple sevens), Virginia and Isaac and baby Jack had set sail from Boston for Philadelphia so that Isaac might take command of his ship, the new-built frigate Falmouth. That was a voyage that had gone disastrously wrong, and by the time Virginia had reached the city, escorted by Lt. Elisha Faircloth, the British were already ensconced there. So Virginia had made for the one place she knew she would be welcome for as long as she wished to stay; the Williams’ home. And there she remained, with no idea of what she would do next, or how she would do it even if she did think of something.
“There,” Mrs. Williams said, satisfied at last with the height of the flames and straightening with some difficulty. “Now you shall be properly warm. You and that lovely little Jack. What a big boy! What a good, hungry boy!”
“Hungry, yes, he is,” Virginia agreed. She had a blanket over her shoulder that covered the breast she had slipped out of her gown and Jack’s head, which was the size of a twelve-pound cannonball, as Jack nursed with surprising vigor. For six months, Virginia had worn maternity gowns, sew from what seemed to her acres of fabric. Now she wore dresses that allowed her baby to easily reach his sustenance. She wondered if any of the gowns she had once worn, before her pregnancy, seemingly a lifetime ago, would still fit her.
The nursing had not come easy, and it was still not terribly easy. At first, Virginia was left sore and chapped by Jack’s efforts, but that had improved in time. Now it was just occasional pain from engorgement, occasional back pain from holding the young man, stiffness from sitting, and nursing for hours on end that were a part of her daily routine.
That general discomfort was exacerbated by Mrs. Williams’s chasing her around the house and stoking up the fire in whatever place Virginia found herself. No sooner would Virginia manage to find an unoccupied room still at a bearable temperature than in would come Mrs. Williams to toss cordwood on the flames to prevent imminent frostbite to mother and child.
Virginia had tried remaining in her own bed chambers, the one room in which she was safe, but if she remained sequestered there for too long, Mrs. Williams would come knocking, concerned about her health and well-being. Nor did Virginia feel it proper to hide from her hostess, so she endured the heat and forced a smile on her face.
“Come now, Virginia, dear,” Susan said, her argument having been interrupted by the crisis over the fireplace. “You still haven’t given me a good reason for being so backward.”
Virginia sighed. Susan was standing in the doorway that opened out onto the main hallway but now she sailed across the room and sat in the armchair across from Virginia. She settled with a great flourish of silk and lace and wisps of blonde hair artfully escaping from under her mob cap, as if to say that she would not be leaving until she was satisfied.
“Dear Susan, I’m hardly in any state to be seen out of doors,” Virginia said.
“Well certainly, not now,” Susan countered. “But there’s no reason you couldn’t pretty yourself up. I’m sure you have some gowns that will fit you still, and if not we could have them let out a bit. Virginia, you’re still a very lovely girl, you know.”
Virginia smiled wider, hiding the fact that she was clenching her teeth. You’re still a very lovely girl, you know… she thought, the words playing in her mind in a sing-song tone. At first, she had wondered if Susan said such things because she was a bitch, or if she was simply an idiot, and obtuse, but she had since realized that the girl was not obtuse at all.
“You’re very kind to say so, Susan,” Virginia said. “But I don’t think I’m quite up to it.”
The British occupation of Philadelphia, it seemed, had put no damper of the social life of the city. Anyone who had been part of the Continental government, or was a known and notorious rebel, had cleared out before Howe’s men had come marching in. Of those left behind, the rougher sort still frequented the taverns and brothels, and if they did so in company with British soldiers and sailors, they were happy enough for the hard money their new friends had in their pockets.
The conquest had not deprived the elite of the city of amusements, either. Elegant afternoon teas, lavish balls, theater, it still went on, just as before. More lively than before, actually, with the addition of the handsome and worldly young officers in their red and blue uniforms. Much of apolitical Philadelphia was taken with the sophisticated gentlemen from across the sea, and none more than the young, unmarried women of the city.
Among those was Susan Williams, who could play the part of a chaste maiden as well as any actor in the city’s Southwark Theatre could play Desdemona, or Charlotte in The West Indian. Susan was anything but chaste, Virginia knew (and Faircloth had learned, to his delight), but she looked the part, with her demure face, flawless white skin and pink cheeks, the thin tapered waist and the great tumble of blond hair barely contained by her white linen cap.
Susan’s father had been a well-respected judge who remained largely neutral in the growing conflict, and that meant that both Mrs. Williams and her daughter were not suspected of rebel leanings. Not that it would have mattered to the randy young officers in town. If Susan Williams had been caught manning the ramparts at Fort Mifflin, musket in hand, they would not have cared. Men were willing to overlook a great deal when it came to women who looked like Susan.
“Captain Cornwall will be calling again this afternoon,” Susan said, “and he has a friend whom he’s told about you, and the gentleman is very eager to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m a married woman. You do recall that, Susan, do you not?”
“Oh, poo,” Susan said. “You don’t even know where your husband is.”
Virginia sighed. Stupid or cruel, which is she? she wondered. It was certainly true that Virginia did not know where her husband was. She had not seen him for a month, not since she had made Elisha Faircloth bring her back to Isaac’s ship so that she could apologize for the stupid fight she had picked with him, a fight that had sprung from her own fears of his going in harm’s way.
They had made love in the tiny great cabin of the odd little galley Isaac was commanding. And that was the last she had seen or heard of him. When she lay in bed at night, with Jack gently breathing beside her, she replayed that scene in her mind, over and over—the only comfort she was able to find.
“I’m sorry, Virginia, my dear,” Susan continued, perhaps realizing she had gone too far at last. “I know you’re worried about Isaac. We all are. I just fear it’s doing you no good, just sitting here and brooding. Sure having something to distract you would help. I’m certain Captain Biddlecomb would not want you sitting here with the blue devils.”
“Captain Biddlecomb,” Mrs. Williams said with a snort. “I’m sure I don’t know what that young gentleman was thinking, bringing his wife and newborn babe into the middle of a war!”
It was hardly the first time the woman had expressed that opinion. The first half dozen times Virginia had pointed out that there had been no fighting around Philadelphia when they set out from Boston, that they had sailed in the company of two powerful privateers, and that she, Virginia, would not have tolerated being left behind in any event. But she soon learned that those arguments were less effective than simply not responding at all, since they only invited further arguments, so she remained silent and continued to smile.
“I’m not so sure these gentlemen will wish to meet me,” Virginia said. “I’m hardly a Loyalist, or even neutral in my politics. And my husband has made himself one of the King’s great enemies. Do they know that?”
“Of course not!” Susan said. “I told them your husband is a ship’s captain, no more. I’m sure they assume he commands a merchantman of some sort, because I’d be a fool to mention it otherwise.”
“Indeed you would,” Virginia agreed.
“That blue gown you have, the one that sets off your eyes so beautifully!” Susan said, changing the subject with renewed enthusiasm. “I’m sure that would fit you famously. And we’ll do your hair up the way you like it.”
Virginia did not reply. She did not know how to reply, because she did not find Susan’s suggestion so terribly awful, and that surprised her. She had always been trim and athletic, an excellent equestrian, a woman used to catching the notice of men. Being pregnant had made her feel like lumbering, ungainly a cow. She had grown heartily tired of it. And now she felt bloated and frumpy and about as vibrant and youthful as Mrs. Temperance Williams, thirty years her senior. And Susan’s presence, pert and pretty Susan, did not help.
The thought of dressing up in nice clothing, doing her hair in some flattering manner, had its appeal.
“These gentlemen, they are just coming to call?” Virginia asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Though there may be a ball in town tonight, I don’t recall, exactly.”
“Oh, Susan!” Mrs. Williams said. “Virginia can’t go to a ball! And little Jack wanting to nurse on the hour, or near enough.”
Virginia felt a little wave of disappointment. Of course, Mrs. Williams was right. Her baby seemed to want to nurse on a near continuous basis. She could hardly leave him for the evening.
“We could certainly get a wet nurse in,” Susan protested. “Nelly, you know of a wet nurse available, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nelly said. “And she lives not more than two blocks away.”
“Susan, don’t be silly,” Mrs. Williams said. “It’s hardly the thing, for Virginia to be running all over the city.”
“But the gentlemen will be so terribly disappointed,” Susan said with a pout.
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but my situation just won’t allow for such an evening,” Virginia said.
“On the other hand, ”Mrs. Williams said, “it would certainly do you some good to get out of this house, even at the risk of catching your death.” It was very like her to argue the opposite of what she had just said a moment before, but Virginia had grown used to that as well.
“Oh, wonderful!” Susan said, apparently considering it settled. “Nelly, run and fetch the wet nurse! Virginia, come above stairs with me! We’ve quite a job ahead of us, getting you ready for this evening!”
It did take several hours, and all of Virginia’s patience, which was far from endless, to accomplish the transformation. Susan insisted on helping with every aspect, and would not be dissuaded, try as Virginia might. Virginia was at least able to bathe in peace once the wet nurse arrived, the most luxurious moment she had experienced in some time.
Dressing was what Virginia dreaded most, and what she most wished to do in private. It had been a little less than a year since she had last donned any of her pre-pregnancy wardrobe. She had no notion of how the old clothing would fit now, but she was not optimistic, and she did not care to have Susan watching her squirm into a gown that fit like a sausage casing, if it fit at all. But Susan insisted, in the guise of being helpful, and since Virginia also did not want to admit to her concerns, she endured the help.
In the end, it was not nearly as bad as she feared. The blue gown, the one that set off her eyes, slid over her shift with little resistance, settling on her hips, and with the lacings eased off a bit enveloped her waist in such a way that she could still breathe with relative ease.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Susan said, clapping with delight. “You fill that out so nicely, far better than you did before!”
Virginia smiled.
They moved on to Virginia’s hair, and even Virginia had to admit to Susan’s skill in that regard. She devoted well over an hour to the task, piling Virginia’s thick, chestnut locks up on her head in a series of elegant swirls with wisps hanging just so, and adorned them with dried flowers and strategically placed pins.
She’ll make me look pretty, but she’ll take care I’m not prettier than she is, Virginia thought, watching in the mirror as Susan did her work. If there was one thing Susan would not tolerate if she did not have to, it was the presence of a woman more beautiful than herself.
Well, she couldn’t make me more pretty than her even if she tried, Virginia thought next, studying her face in the glass. Susan was five years older than she was, but Virginia had spent far more time out of doors, riding, sailing in boats and ships, or just walking in the country. She had been through battles and she had had a baby. All of that, it seemed to her, was written on her skin, molded on her frame.
Susan took a step back, hands spread as if revealing a masterpiece. “There!” she said. “Done! You are the most beautiful woman in all of Philadelphia! I shall be envious of you all night!”
If that was true, you sure as hell wouldn’t have said it, Virginia thought as she considered the result of Susan’s efforts. And once again, she was surprised. Susan had done a good job. The dress, the make-up, the hair, it had all been done with skill and subtlety. Virginia smiled. A genuine smile.
“Thank you, dear Susan, it’s wonderful,” she said. And she meant it. For the first time in a long time, she felt a bit like the way she used to feel, when she was still the object of the young men’s desires. Despite the damage she had inflicted on herself over the course of her two decades, she was still pretty. She could see that.
Susan was still straightening up when they heard a knock on the door from the floor below. The girls’ eyes met, and Susan gave Virginia a conspiratorial raise of the eyebrows. They heard footsteps coming up the long staircase and Nelly knocked on the door and opened it.
“Beg pardon, ma’am, but the gentlemen are here,” she said.
“Very good,” Susan said. “Pray, seat them in the drawing room and tell them we’ll be down directly.”
Nelly nodded and disappeared. Susan sighed and seated herself in the chair opposite Virginia. For a moment they remained like that, sitting in silence. At length, Virginia spoke.
“Should we not go below stairs?” she asked. “And greet these fellows?”
“Oh, what a country girl you are!” Susan said with delight. “They must be made to wait at least half an hour!”
“They must?”
“Of course, they must! They can’t for a moment think we’re here at their beck and call. The less interested we are in them, the more interested they’ll be in us.”
“I see,” Virginia said. “Mind you, I have no wish for any man’s interest, save my husband’s. This is an evening’s diversion, no more, which I’m doing because you asked it of me. Pray, don’t forget I’m married.”
“I won’t forget,” Susan said. She gave Virginia her coy smile. “If you don’t.”
They passed the requisite half-hour in conversation punctuated with stretches of silence, and finally Susan stood and announced it was time to go below stairs.
“Virginia, dear,” she said as they straightened their gowns, “I’ve known you…nearly all my life. And I know you can be…shall I say, headstrong? But I trust you’ll be gracious to our visitors. For my sake, and mother’s, if nothing else.”
“Certainly I’ll be gracious, I try always to be gracious,” Virginia said, and thought headstrong? She had just been chastising herself for feeling nervous at the prospect of meeting this young gentleman from England, for worrying that she would stumble over her words and come off the Yankee Doodle bumpkin. For fearing that she had completely lost the ability to make civilized and intelligent conversation.
I wish I was headstrong, and not some blabbering fool, Virginia thought.
They left the room and walked and down the long, carpeted staircase, with Susan taking the lead. She turned left in the foyer and stepped into the drawing room with Virginia on her heels. The two gentlemen were standing near the fireplace and they turned as the women swept in and smiles spread over their faces.
Virginia took them in quickly, her eyes flicking from feet to faces. They were both somewhat above average height, lean and athletic-looking. In their mid-twenties, she guessed, with hair thick and long and tied back in queues. One had dark hair and an almost swarthy complexion to match, the other was fairer, with light brown hair that probably turned blonde in the summer’s sun. Their faces were handsome, but with none of the softness of men who sat in offices. Rather they had the look of campaigners in the field. The sight of them made Virginia sick.
It was the uniforms. She had understood from the first mention that these men were officers of the British army. That was no surprise. But somehow in all the consideration of whether or not to socialize with them, she had lost sight of what that really meant.
But the uniforms—the rich, red regimental coats with their white facings and glinting buttons, the white waistcoats and breeches, the red sashes tied around waists, the swords hanging jauntily from polished leather belts—gave Virginia a visceral reaction that she did not expect, and one she was certain she failed to hide.
“Ah, Susan, as beautiful as ever, and that is very beautiful indeed!” said the fairer of the two, stepping up and taking Susan’s hands in his. “Well worth the hour or two you made us wait!”
“You beast, it was nothing like an hour,” Susan said, looking the man up and down. “And I should hope I’m worth it.” She released his hands and turned to Virginia. “Gentlemen, allow me to present my oldest and dearest friend in all the world, Virginia Biddlecomb!”
The two made shallow bows. Virginia bowed as well and said, “Mrs. Virginia Biddlecomb.”
The officers nodded and one said, “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Biddlecomb,” and the other, “Delighted, Mrs. Biddlecomb,” but Virginia was not sure who had said what, and they seemed to have no reaction to the addition of the title Mrs.
“Virginia, dear,” Susan continued, “allow me to present Captain Nicholas Cornwall of the 17th Regiment of Foot, and Captain Richard Dexter, also of the 17th.”
“My pleasure, gentlemen.” Virginia said the words with no thought behind them. She wondered if either man would try to touch her, kiss her hand, or some such. She wondered what she would do if they did. She had no idea.
“So, Virginia, as I said, there is a fabulous ball being held at the Newsome house,” Susan continued. “Not to be missed for worlds…and the captains have been so kind as to ask if they can escort us there.”
Virginia felt the uncertainty take hold, the hesitancy that had been driven off right up until she had seen the uniforms.
“Oh, Susan, I’m not certain I’m quite up to this…” she said.
“Oh, come along, Virginia, you know it will do you good to get out of this dreary house,” Susan said. “And the captains have a coach and four waiting for us. It would be terribly rude for us to refuse them, after all the trouble they’ve gone to.”
Trouble? Virginia thought. More trouble for the poor sod whose coach and four they commandeered.
“Mrs. Biddlecomb?” the dark-haired one, Captain Richard Dexter, also of the 17th, spoke. “Forgive me. I certainly understand how dreadfully tedious these things can be. I’m no great fan of balls and such myself. And I assure you, Captain Cornwall and myself would be in no way insulted if you were to beg off. I probably would myself, were I able to.”
His voice was soft, softer than Virginia would have guessed it would be, his tone gentle and sincere, and the sincerity worked strangely on her. It made her suspicious, put her on guard, but it put her at ease as well, like wind and current coming from opposite quarters.
She looked into his face, into his eyes. She knew that what she saw there would tip the balance. It would tell her if his sincerity was to be believed or dismissed. His eyes were dark, but there was a kindness in them, and they seemed slightly expectant, with no sign of arrogance or wile.
“Thank you, sir,” Virginia said. “I would be honored, were you to escort us this evening.”