“The horses and Charles’s dog, Piglet, are already growing winter coats. Might be a harsh one.”
“My woodpile is full. What else can one do?”
“True. How is this Sean fellow working out?”
“He puts in a good day’s work, and if a larger chore needs doing, he seeks out day laborers. This saves me a great deal of money, though I can’t tend to as many acres.”
“Your oats certainly are fine. Perhaps when finances improve, you can buy more hands.”
Cup of tea in hand, Yancy sipped it, then set the fine china cup in its saucer. “No more slaves. The more I think about feeding, housing, clothing, medical things, I believe the slave system to be highly uneconomical. Harmful, really.”
“Slavery is the way of the world,” Ewing simply stated.
“Yes it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s efficient.”
“You’re not turning into a Quaker, are you?” Ewing smiled at him.
“Ah, well, in my trials I have thought much about their teachings. No, I am not a Quaker but”—he leaned forward, his voice low—“I much admire them.”
24
April 24, 2018
Tuesday
The Dorcas Guild, the St. Peter’s Guild, and a few parishioners feeling they should attend watched as the unknown bones, in a simple casket built by Fair Haristeen and Ned Tucker, was lowered into the open grave.
The site, under the red oak as Reverend Jones had suggested, seemed perfect this first day that felt like spring. Tree buds swelled finally, promising to open soon.
Arlene Billeaud, next to Harry, observed the burial with interest. Harry had told her about the circumstances of unearthing the bones. Arlene, at Harry’s invitation, had come to stay with Harry for three days, then Harry, Susan, and Arlene would drive up to Aldie for the Hounds F4R Heroes.
“If you have to be buried, a wonderful day.” Janice Childe walked up to Harry, Arlene, and Susan after the service.
“You’re right,” Harry agreed, as Mags also joined them.
“The casket glowed. Fair and Ned must have rubbed it with oil for hours.” Mags praised the men.
“They wanted it to be of her time.” Susan spoke for her husband. “I think we all feel a little uneasy that she was tossed on top of the Taylors.”
“And you say she wore a fortune in roped pearls and pearl and diamond earrings?” Arlene was intrigued.
“Isn’t it something?” Janice waited for the reverend to shake her hand, as was proper.
They all did.
Reverend Jones then said, “Let’s hope she’s with the Lord. Everyone deserves a proper Christian burial.”
The cats, reposing in the office window, which was a series of paned-glass windows to allow as much light as possible, observed the ceremony.
“Poppy takes this so seriously.” Lucy Fur loved her human.
“Well, you can’t just let human bones lay about,” Elocution added.
“The dogs could chew them. They wouldn’t last long.” Cazenovia flicked her long-haired calico tail.
“That’s the point,” Elocution replied.
After the burial, the three women drove over to Big Rawly. Arlene enjoyed historic homes. Big Rawly qualified. As they drove down the narrow road off of Garth Road, they turned left onto Big Rawly land, passing the imposing graveyard with the large tomb of Francisco Selisse guarded by the angel with the flaming sword.
“East of Eden.” Susan filled Arlene in. “When Adam and Eve were driven out of Eden, the Lord placed an angel with a flaming sword to keep people out and guard the tree of life.”
“A little like closing the barn door after the horses have fled,” Arlene wryly commented. “Shall I assume that Francisco Selisse was rich and powerful?”
“He was. He was murdered, so they say, by one of his slaves who escaped. As it turns out, he wasn’t much loved, including by his widow, who quickly remarried Jeffrey Holloway, my ancestor,” Susan replied. “Before I married Ned, I was a Holloway.”
“You’re still a Holloway,” Harry affirmed.
“There’s no end of drama around here. We bury an unknown woman, not a Lutheran, right?”
“Right. If she were, we would know who she was, but she was found as we told you, on top of two Lutherans who helped found St. Luke’s. Old crimes. And now we face a new one. Killing is a part of being human, I fear.” Susan stopped at the rear of the French-designed home.
As Susan walked Arlene around the gardens, pointing out garden features as well as the elegant home, Arlene said, “I suppose the mystery of an unclaimed body, bones, an old crime has a kind of pull. When we were all at Aldie, Geoff Ogden recalled Paula Devlin. Another unsolved crime, the body never found. I miss her. Once, shopping, we walked into an expensive woman’s clothing store in Washington. We walked right out,” Arlene mused.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t take over two hundred years to find her,” Harry blurted out.
“It’s the killer I worry about, just like the killer of Jason Holzknect.” Susan opened the graceful wrought-iron gate leading to the back door.
“I’m not too worried about Jason’s killer,” Arlene said.
“Why not?” Harry inquired.
Arlene didn’t answer as Susan’s mother and grandmother greeted them at the door, inviting the ladies inside, where Susan’s mother gave Arlene another tour.
Tea followed and both older women told stories about Big Rawly, starting with the questions unanswered about all that Caribbean money Maureen’s father made, much of it sent on to Big Rawly by his daughter. But Big Rawly, well served throughout the centuries, stood firm and remained beautiful despite all.
Back in the car, Harry returned to the question about why Arlene wasn’t worried about Jason’s killer at Aldie.
“I think the murder was specific to him,” she answered calmly.
“Like his money or something?” Susan wondered.
“I’ve been asked by the sheriff about his finances, did I know anything, but I just don’t think this is broader-based. I hunted with Jason twice a year at Aldie over the years. Also visited Chesapeake Beagles to hunt on his territory. He was a good huntsman. He never lacked for anything. I can’t say I felt close to him or Clare. They were good members of the National Beagle Club. Very helpful. It does seem dramatic that such a seemingly bland fellow would be killed, but this has nothing to do with us.”
Susan asked, “You think we’re safe?”
“I do. You aren’t going to get your throat slit.”
25
October 17, 1787
Wednesday