“Rick and I have talked about that. Mrs. Holloway requested his body be taken directly to the funeral parlor. Pushing her for an autopsy might not be wise.”
“Here’s what I can’t get out of my head. Why did the governor go to the Avenging Angel? He’s trying to tell us something.”
No one had noticed the small squares scratched onto the base of Francisco Selisse’s tomb. Placed there over the centuries, they called down curses. Could it be that a curse, undetected, had haunted the Holloways for more than two hundred years?
Sunday, April 17, 1785
Ewing Garth stared into the fire in his large sitting room. “It will be another frost tonight.”
Gathered around him, his two daughters and sons-in-law agreed.
John listened to the comforting crackle. “I thought we had harder winters in Massachusetts than here, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Most years I plant by now, but this year I am inclined to wait. After the last frost is the time.” Ewing sighed. “Charles, what hear you from your brother?”
“Parliament involves him more than he anticipated, though he likes it. Our father weakens but refuses to surrender his rounds of sociability. Nigel reports that France is embroiled in outrages over lavish expenditures by the queen, the nobility. Perhaps it’s human nature to shine, to be fashionable in address and dress.” He slightly smiled.
“Who spends more, men or women?” Catherine raised her eyebrows, ready for everyone’s response.
“Oh, women, indisputably.” Ewing placed his folded hands over his abdomen. “The cost of lace alone!”
Rachel laughed. “Father, who had to have a brocade waistcoat?”
“Now, dear, I can’t look raggedy when called upon to do business. A man is judged by his appearance.”
The sisters laughed, then Rachel replied, “So are women, and even more, Father, men are judged by the appearance of their wives, daughters, even their sisters.”
“Well, now—” Ewing tried to find something with which to counter this.
Filled with humor, John said in his deep voice, “I believe the ladies have a point.”
“Well, they do, but consider our wives, they need no adornment. Jewels pale next to them,” Charles added.
Rachel reached over to pinch him. “Very flattering, but jewels do not pale.”
“Sweetheart, what is a ruby next to your lips or a sapphire next to your eyes? Naturally, I am proud when we go in public and you wear such bewitching clothes, but I admire both you and your sister. You are not vulgar. Nothing is overdone.”
The two sisters liked hearing this but wondered if this would come back to haunt them if they happened to find an alluring bauble.
“He’s quite right,” said Ewing. “Your mother would wear her silk dress, the dark blue one with the bit of lace.” He patted his upper chest. “Her figure was beyond compare.”
“She also wore the diamond-and-sapphire necklace and earrings you bought her when I was born.” Catherine grinned.
Meekly, he agreed. “Yes. But, well, I don’t expect you girls to understand, but I found your mother most beautiful in the morning. She’d sweep up her hair with a ribbon, wear her flowing housedress, and when she walked, the skirt would move just so. Oh, what an apparition.”
The two young men nodded, then Ewing changed the subject. “Hiram finally removed the leaflets with the reward for information about Dennis McComb’s disappearance. Isn’t that odd? Nothing. You’d think someone would have at least found the body. Hiram believes Dennis found Moses, and was then killed by him. That’s a good story and certainly serves the purpose of pushing for more constables and at a higher salary.”
“He does have much territory to cover,” Rachel blandly replied.
“He does, but we must take care of our own problems.” Ewing held up his hands, palms outward. “I’m not saying we don’t need constables any more than I’m saying we don’t need a militia, but who is to pay? It seems every legislature in every state froths at the mouth, always over money.”
John and Charles had never told their wives what really happened on the way to York. Nor did they discuss it between them. Had to be done and that was that. Apart from stories about York, they mentioned that on the return trip they passed the farm wherein they’d spent a night. A beautifully carved sign now hung on a pole: TWILIGHT ACRES. The wives enjoyed that story.
“It is vexing,” John agreed, then added, “I know I am in the small numbers, but I believe we need a standing army and a navy. As long as the Europeans fight among themselves, they will leave us alone, but I believe once they realize the natural riches here, they will be back.”
Ewing was intrigued. “Do you really?”
Charles stuck by John. “Money is even more of a problem there than here. The British, the French, the Austrians, even the Russians, continue to advance in artillery. The Spanish possess a good navy and they are much closer to us than the others. When they look at the New World, they see riches to plunder, riches so they can build even bigger armies and navies.”
“Yes, the Spanish are in the Caribbean and beyond, but we must remember your countrymen also ply the Caribbean. I’m a simple man,” said Ewing, who was not. “I believe in trade. Trade brings peace. War disrupts trade, drags people down with heavy expense and taxes. Those countries overrun are despoiled. If I can sit at a table and deal with men different from myself, why can’t they? Which reminds me of Francisco Selisse, a hard man, to be sure, but he was tireless in his pursuit of profit and he always made sure something was left on the table.”
“Beg pardon?” Charles had not heard of that expression.
“The man was shrewd and difficult to overcome. But if you dealt fairly with him, even though he would get the better of you, he left money on the table so you had something. And he never, ever bragged about winning his hand, so to speak.”
“You dealt successfully with him.” Catherine said this with warmth.
“Yes. I found it more hospitable to form a few ventures with him than not. We did well on our timber purchases. However, look at the success of the forge at Scottsville. He had a feel for such things.”
“He was a brute,” Catherine pronounced judgment.
“He was.” Ewing, startled by the loud crack of a log, laughed at himself. “I don’t know how you two withstood all that gunfire during the war.”
“Harder on the cannoneers,” Charles said. “They went deaf.”
“The strange thing is, you get used to it,” John stated. “The bombardment at Yorktown seemed almost natural after a time.”
“Speaking of Francisco, Rachel, I think you will be owing me four embroidered pillowcases.”
Rachel, eyes wide, exhaled. “It’s not even a year. I thought Maureen would wait a year.”
Catherine laughed her silvery laugh. “I didn’t. Jeffrey Holloway is too handsome and she is going to snatch at pleasure where and when she can.”
This subject enlivened them all. Their laughter was so loud it awoke snoring Piglet.
—
While the Garths sat by the fire, the flickering light of another fire played on the ceiling. Ailee had gone into labor. Bettina, Bumbee, Serena, and other women attended to her. As this was the young woman’s first birth, she was frightened.
With the exception of Ewing, everyone on the farm knew about and protected Ailee. She had not needed to run onto the outside stairway and into the woods. It helped that it still felt like winter and fewer people were about. The large weaving lodge attracted no attention except for those few women who wove cloth. At night, Ailee would walk, hooded, with other women for a bit of exercise. Within a week of moving into the large loft, she recovered sufficiently to cook. She also learned to repair garments and to darn socks. She never spoke, nor did she smile, but she expressed her gratitude to others. She would take their hand and squeeze it.