“Do you think we are depraved?”
“Some of us are, but no, I don’t. What about you?”
“No, but they certainly get all the media attention. I guess that’s our Puritan background, exalt misery and suffering. That’s all I see from it. Not a hint of joy.”
“You know what H. L. Menken wrote, ‘A Puritan is a person who fears that someone, somewhere, is having fun.’ ” Harry laughed a little bit, having condensed the famous quote.
With that they both exploded in raucous laughter again, truly grateful to be alive.
45
June 15, 1787
Friday
Pushing his spectacles up, Ewing smiled at his contemporary. “Thank you.” He put down the letter then looked up at his butler. “Nothing is going to plan.”
“Sir?”
“The convention. It’s one argument after another. Roger Davis writes, under the table. I pay him to do so but best no one knows. I think he’s also informing others, which irritates me. Anyway, Madison puts forth all his ideas for government giving states much autonomy. These aren’t tabled but each delegate appears to feel his thoughts are necessary. Roger, I fear nothing can be done, but one sensible thing has occurred. The members elected George Washington president of the convention. He can vote as a member but he will not express opinions.”
Roger, alert to the times, very intelligent, poured tea. “Master, he is not much a talking man, so they say.”
“No. But I hear in small groups—especially if ladies are present, his wife in particular—he can be filled with laughter. I can only imagine the burdens he has carried and is carrying now.”
Roger folded his arms across his chest. “Indeed.”
“I like Jemmy Madison. I like his brother, and I fear their mother. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Imperious.” He shook his head, then laughed. “Well, I’ve nattered on, but I need be careful because I know Madison and Jefferson, though he be in France, think as one. And I must confess, I differ much from my neighbors, for I think John Adams has the stronger case, but I have doubts.”
“Mr. Ewing, you should be there. You understand business. I think these men are mostly lawyers.”
Ewing laughed. “Fearful, isn’t it?”
A knock at the front door sent Roger to it. Ewing heard a familiar voice, rose, strode out into the hall.
“Ah, Yancy, my dear fellow. Please come in.” He nodded to Roger, who stepped aside. “Roger has brought me my afternoon restorative tea. Might you join me?”
“I would be honored.”
The two men walked into Ewing’s library/office as Roger hastened to the kitchen. Bettina and Serena gathered biscuits, made small sandwiches; then Bettina, her sense of occasion aroused, quickly picked a few flowers and the two women created an early summer arrangement. Roger brought the tray into the office, which was beautiful in its proportions, the light shining on the leather-bound books.
“Tell Bettina she again works her magic.” Ewing beamed up at Roger, who discreetly withdrew.
Ewing relayed the contents of the letter from Philadelphia without revealing the author.
“Have we not set ourselves too great a task?” Yancy asked. “We know only kings and queens. Athens is so very far away, as is Rome, though a little closer. They seem to be the ideal. Well early Rome, not late Rome.”
Ewing nodded. “We have what they wrote.”
“Yes, yes, but times are different. Think of the weaponry we have now, the speed of our ships. The ancients could never have imagined firearms.”
“Yes.” Ewing took a bracing sip. “I buy the teas but Bettina does something.”
“She waves her hand over the tea leaves. She has magic.” Yancy smiled then took a deep breath. “I have come to throw myself upon the mercy of an old friend, a friend tried and true in difficult times. Had we not won, you and I would have been hanged together.”
Ewing’s eyebrows knitted together, he leaned toward Yancy. “What can I do? You have only to ask.”
Yancy swallowed. “I found Black Knight. I carted him to the barn, where your most excellent daughter is going over him with Barker O. and Jeddie. He’s had a tooth knocked out, has cuts everywhere, and his tendons are bowed. Someone was brutal to the magnificent creature.”
“I am so sorry. Is there any possibility to find out?”
“The man who brought him to me is a farmer in Goochland County. Appears educated. He said the animal wandered onto his farm. He patched him up as best he could. A visiting neighbor recognized Blackie from the races. I expect most of Goochland County was there. So I paid the fellow for his troubles.” He looked into his friend’s eyes. “I can’t restore him to health. Catherine can. I am ruined, Ewing, ruined.”
“I thought you profited from the races.”
“I did. I repaid my debts to Sam Udall. I hired a lawyer since Maureen threatened to sue me for the loss of William. Why in God’s name would I be party to a slave escaping on my blooded horse!”
“Runaway slaves are part of life, but I do think many of us would turn away from reporting anyone escaping Maureen. Her cruelty is anything but casual.”
“She has backed off her lawsuit, thanks to her husband. The man with whom I fought a duel has become a friend.” He inhaled deeply. “But I have no workers as you know. I can’t afford to house and feed anyone. I can’t afford to pay for an indentured servant from Ireland. I prefer an Irishman for working with horses. And I can’t pinpoint where I went wrong. I did think our new country would have settled its debts by now.”
“Yes.” Ewing nodded. “If nothing else this gaggle of argumentative men in Philadelphia must do that very thing. How can I help?”