45

Come live with me, and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove of golden sands, and crystal brooks, with silken lines, and silver hooks.

John Donne

Sylvie hefted her small chest and met Will beyond palace walls at dayspring, as he called it. True to his word, a wagon and team waited outside, the bed filled with supplies and tools, even a hogshead. He took her chest and secured it behind the seat, then helped her up to sit beside him.

Other than a rather gruff greeting, he hadn’t said a word. Nor had she.

The damp and the quiet would likely have magnified any talk, perhaps even awakened residents to their activity. Williamsburg remained a melancholy town even beneath a misted, rising sun, and she hoped within a few miles the feeling would lift. For now, the team trod slowly down Duke of Gloucester Street where the staccato clip of hooves announced their leaving.

Through the mist, Sylvie saw Eve waiting outside the bookbindery, the children in hand. A slightly bigger chest than Sylvie’s own rested at their feet. At the sight of the wagon, Nolan began jumping up and down while Henrietta held tight to her raggety doll, face solemn.

“God bless Judge Kersey,” Will remarked beneath his breath, slowing the team and setting the brake. “He even made arrangements for Eve to ready them for today.”

Without waiting for him to help her down, Sylvie jumped to the ground in her eagerness. She embraced Eve, saddened beyond words she wasn’t coming too.

“Don’t pay me any mind,” Eve whispered, drawing back. “I’ll likely stay on right here in town. But I’ll rest easier knowing the children are in good hands.”

Will arranged blankets for the children to sit on in the wagon bed directly behind Sylvie. Eve had dressed them warmly in hats, scarves, and mittens, and Sylvie covered their woolen-clad legs and shoes with more blankets.

“Where are we going now?” Nolan asked Will, worry in his pale, freckled face.

“To a better life. A place you’ve never been, where you can learn to hunt and fish and farm,” he answered, casting a look in Sylvie’s direction. “Miss Galant will be near, as will I.”

Seemingly satisfied, Nolan leaned back against a sack of grain while Henrietta kept hold of Sylvie’s hand, making her wonder if she shouldn’t climb into the wagon bed after them. To the children’s delight, Bonami jumped in and settled down between them, adding to their warmth.

Sylvie faced forward as Will took the reins in hand. She’d envisioned this moment but hadn’t expected it to be atop a wagon with the children.

The road was mud and rock beyond Williamsburg, the day nearly blinding with its brightness. The sun climbed higher, warming their backs as they rode west, shimmering off every frozen blade of grass and leafless branch. At intervals, Will had them walk to stretch their legs and lighten the team’s load.

By late afternoon, it dawned on Sylvie that they’d have to overnight somewhere. The farther they traveled, the fewer people and habitations she saw.

Finally, at a crossroads, a stone building appeared along the frozen road like a figment of her imagination. Two stories of gray stone and a sloping roof crowned a long porch running the length of the building. The George Arms.

“We’ll overnight here,” Will told them.

Once they were inside, the innkeeper assigned them lodging and made assumptions. “Major Blackburn, you and your wife and children should rest well in our best room—the only one left given the hour. Now that your bed is settled, your board awaits.” He pointed them in the direction of the public room. “Supper should serve your family well, as my wife and daughters are able cooks.”

Will didn’t correct him, only thanked him and turned toward the clink of cutlery and conversation. A few guests crowded round the hearth or occupied tables filling the large, low-ceilinged room. Seeking a corner, Sylvie and the children took a bench with Will across from them. Stiff from sitting in the wagon and cold to her bones, Sylvie felt relieved to have left town but was unsure of Will. They’d not talked much on the road, as if both of them were giving the other time to adjust to their shifting circumstances.

Amusement stole past his stoicism when she said, “So, Husband, it seems you’ve managed well for us tonight.”

“Sylvie Galant Blackburn does sound almost poetic.” He winked as a tankard of ale was set down, along with hot cider for her and the children. “And given there’s only one available room . . .”

That flush only he was capable of raising rushed in, and she focused on the fare, her suddenly swaying stomach at odds with the feast before them. Roast fowl and game pie were served alongside heaping plates of fried potatoes and pickled vegetables, applesauce, bread and butter, and preserves. The children ate heartily, gladdening her further.

“Who cooks for you along the Rivanna?” she asked him, wondering where Liselotte Kersey fit into this new endeavor.

“Eulalie Benoit and Antoinette Laroche.”

Both women she’d be glad to see again. “And the others?”

“Liselotte Kersey has a hand in overseeing the women and any concerns or needs that arise. Sebastien Broussard and Nicolas Surette are in charge of fieldwork and roadbuilding. Soon they’ll be plowing, as we’re bringing plow points and other needed tools with us. The other men, including indentures, rotate fieldwork while some repair the gristmill. Work will start on a ferry after planting.”

“Ambitious.” She put her arm around Henrietta, who yawned even as she stuffed more bread into her mouth. “I hope your wheat crop is flourishing.”

Will chuckled and continued eating, making her wonder at his thoughts. Such high hopes she now had after having none at all. She wanted to think no further than right here, yet now all the unknowns crowded round her, chipping away at the pleasure this hard-won moment wrought.

When she put down her fork and looked up, his eyes were on her. “What made you decide to come with me?”

How lost she became in his steady, silvered gaze. For a moment she forgot his careful question. “I need to let go of the past and live in the present.” Her voice stayed steadfast, though she still felt like a sentimental puddle. “All I have is this blessed moment. There’s no promise of a future with the political situation and the smallpox.”

“You have a future, Sylvie. With me. And the children.” He set down his fork. “The Lord didn’t bring you this far otherwise.” He looked like he wanted to say more but pushed his empty plate away, ending the matter. “When you’re ready, go on up to the room and get settled. You three take the bed. I’ll sleep in the barn near the wagon.”

She felt a sudden dismay. “In this cold?”

His half smile said her concern was unwarranted. “Given I’ve weathered a howling blizzard or two, the barn will be warm. Nor do I want any pilfering of wagon or provisions.”

This she understood. Bidding him good night, she got up from the table reluctantly while he sat alone to finish his ale.

“I feel sick,” Henrietta told Sylvie as they washed their hands and faces at a washbasin in their room.

“You ate even more’n I did,” Nolan said from the window where he stood watch. “I counted you had five buns. Pa used to call you Little Piggy, remember?”

“Nay,” she said softly.

Sylvie pressed a hand to Henrietta’s forehead and found it blessedly cool. “You’re simply tired like me.”

Heavenly Father, let that be all it is.

The plea, earnest enough, felt empty after so much prayerlessness.

“I’m not tired,” Nolan boasted, squaring his small shoulders. “I want to sleep in the barn like Mr. Major.”

“Perhaps you can keep him company another time,” Sylvie said, tucking Henrietta beneath the covers. Though the hearth’s fire danced with amber light, the room stayed cold. “Best ready for bed so you can help Mr. Major in the morning.”

With that, Nolan climbed into bed and was soon asleep even as Henrietta burrowed closer to Sylvie. Snug, eyes closed and arms around the children, Sylvie felt a tendril of contentment take hold. These were not her children nor was the man downstairs her husband, but for now, on this frozen night, she was somewhere safe with those she loved, and that was enough.