The Shopkeeper's Widow Page 8

  Well, it was her house now, and she was within her rights to move into it if she chose. She’d never chosen to do so, preferring to stay in town and make money to fulfill her dream of moving to Northumberland. The possibility had never occurred to her before that she could stay in Princess Anne and sell her property in Norfolk. If she did that, she could forgo the expense of Northumberland. The acreage around Tom’s house was more than what she needed.

  A soft knock on the door had her padding toward her robe.

  “Come in,” she told Sally when she opened the door.

  “Miss Delany,” Sally bobbed a curtsey, “Miss Sarah said I should come help you as Mary is poorly this morning.”

  “Where is she?”

  Delany followed Sally down the hall and up the stairs to the third floor.

  “Mary?”

  Mary struggled to sit up around the baby growing in her midsection. “What do you need, Miss Delany?”

  Delany stepped over to the bed, “Nothing. Lie down,” she said in her command voice, but softly. After Mary complied, Delany sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “It’s more than the buggy ride. You know, I never do like to ride in a buggy.” She huffed and waved her hand. “Miss Molly’s doctor says I have to stay put until the baby comes. He thinks it could be anytime now.” Mary’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s too early, Miss Delany.” She choked as the tears brimmed and fell down her cheeks.

  Delany grabbed her hand. Mary pulled herself up, and Delany wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I was so afraid for you.”

  “I was so afraid for Mr. Field I didn’t take any time to be afraid for myself.”

  Mary grinned mischievously. “It’s not too late for you. We all have to wait on the Lord’s timing.”

  Delany nodded. It was never too late for the Lord to work a miracle. Mary needed a miracle. By their reckoning, the baby wasn’t due for another couple of weeks. “It’s time to pray, Mary.”

  They rocked, and they prayed, and they sang a song of praise.

  “It’ll be his timing, Mary.”

  “You won’t leave me, will you?” Mary pleaded. Twenty-two years old, five years younger than Delany, standing on the brink of a terrifying unknown chasm that must be crossed. It didn’t matter that thousands of women crossed the chasm before. Mary herself had not done it, and until she actually crossed the divide, she would have no peace.

  “Of course I will stay with you. Don’t you worry, now. Lie down and do exactly what the doctor says. We don’t want little Ruben born before his time.” She smiled.

  Mary gave a bright smile back despite her tears.

  Delany would tell Field that they would need to delay their departure for a few days. The dining room was empty when she arrived. Not surprising at ten o’clock. She headed for the kitchen. Betsy would have something she could eat, and she could find out about Wiley’s new name. Outside she took a deep breath of the autumn air. It was always cooler out in the country. Norfolk never seemed to lose its stuffiness until the damp winters numbed one’s bones. How had she stood it for so many years?

  “Miss Delany!” Lucy Harrison barreled into her legs.

  “Lucy!” Delany bent down and picked up the four-year old and clasped her tightly. “It’s good to see you and Susan again.” Delany never saw Lucy without her doll. If not clutched in her arms, Susan was always within a few feet. Susan was one of Ann Archer’s gems. Flaxen-hair, dyed brown with startling blue eyes. The two could have been sisters.

  “Me and Papa came to get Grams.”

  “Delany,” Sarah, out of breath, arrived at her side. “You remember my son Isaac.”

  “Mr. Harrison. Nice to see you again.”

  Isaac Harrison was tall and browned by farming, his dark hair pulled back in a curlew at his neck. Blue eyes the color of West Indies color plates pierced everything they looked at even when crinkling a welcome as they did now. “Lucy couldn’t talk of anything else once she knew you would be here with her Grams.”

  Delany looked down at the child. “Would you like to see what I brought you?”

  The same blue eyes looked out of the small face with a big grin and a sprinkle of freckles. “Yes!”

  Delany put Lucy down, and they walked toward the house hand in hand. Was this what the Lord meant by home? Isaac Harrison and a child of her own?

  “I can do it myself.” Lucy pulled her hand free and sidestepped to the right. “I can just walk with you.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Lucy stood next to Delany’s trunk, fingers on the edge, eyes wide. “What you got in that?”

  Delany reached down into the corner and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth tied with a purple ribbon.

  “Oh, it’s purple.” Lucy took the package and crushed it to her chest. “My favorite color is purple.”

  Delany glowed. “Open it.”

  Inside, Delany had placed an elegant riding habit of purple wool. “Susan is now ready to travel in high fashion.”

  “It’s purple, too.” Delany helped Lucy dress Susan in the tiny purple outfit.

  ~*~

  Archer’s breathing matched the rhythm of the canter as he pushed the stallion forward. Muscles hardened. Strength surged. Galloping hooves echoed his heartbeat. The smell of the Atlantic on the cool wind filled his mouth with every intake of breath.

  It would never happen again. He’d been captive for mere hours, but he vowed it would never happen again. The lack of power for just those hours was all he needed. His gaze searched and found his firelock. He wouldn’t be without it again, and Lord help him if he ever came across Josiah Philips.

  The cleansing exercise brought him peace. Once he reached it, he stopped the horse and dismounted to rest them both. The sun had been up for about an hour. He needed to start back. Delany would be up soon. They needed to talk.

  Lord Dunmore knew he was here. That put the entire Fleet family at risk. Field couldn’t allow that any longer than the one night he’d already stayed. It was time to move the rifles to Williamsburg.

  When Archer returned, Samuel was in the barn with a man Field had never seen before.

  “Mr. Archer,” Sam said as he approached, “may I present Sarah’s son, Isaac. He came to collect his mother and bring us news of Lord Dunmore’s actions in the county.”

  Field dismounted. Isaac stood as tall as he and appeared to be about Amity’s age, but his eyes were like his mother’s. He didn’t miss much.

  “I was just tellin’ Sam that Lord Dunmore’s commenced raidin’ on the county. We heard soldiers were in the Dismal Swamp looking for powder.”

  “Did they find it?”

  “Not yet. They spiked nineteen cannon.”

  “Papa! Papa!” A little girl with brown curly hair and the same startling blue eyes as Isaac’s rushed into the barn with Delany in her wake. “Look what Miss Delany got for Susan. It’s purple. My favorite color.” Isaac bent and picked up the little girl.

  “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me.” Isaac turned and walked away with the little girl talking about purple but stopped to thank Delany.

  Delany’s face broke into a bright smile that Field had not seen in years. A stab of irritation ran down his back.

  “You did it again.” Sam smiled at Delany.

  A hint of color rose in her cheeks. “I’m famished.” She turned to head back out of the barn. “I’ll go to the kitchen to see what Betsy has lying around that I can eat.”

  Field’s stomach growled. “I think I’ll go with you.” He fell in beside her.

  Sam stayed back without a word.

  “I have not seen you alone since we arrived.”

  “There really hasn’t been an opportunity, Mr. Archer.” Delany smiled as she looked up at him. “I slept late this morning.”

  “You deserved it.” He offered his arm.

  The same teasing look from last night crossed her face, but she took his arm. This time without ri
gidity, her hand rested easily on his forearm.

  “I owe you,” he said.

  “You owe me nothing.”

  “Quite the contrary. You saved my life, and I was less than gracious about it.”

  “I suppose it’s hard for a man to be rescued by a woman.”

  “It’s hard for a man to be rescued.”

  That same teasing look challenged him again.

  “Must you always quibble?” he replied.

  “No. In truth, I don’t know why I always find something to quibble about with you.” She said this with her head down as though she had given it much thought.

  “I will concede. It is hard for a man to be rescued by a woman.”

  They arrived at the kitchen. Field had not often been in a kitchen since he was a boy. At home, the food was requested and brought to him. He never had need to visit the cook. His mother took care of organizing his meals, and abroad, he’d eaten in taverns.

  The square brick building radiated heat. Laughter escaped through the tall open windows. He’d assumed the inside was similar to the kitchen at Archer Hall. The large main room was painted white, and in the center was a long board table. The far wall housed the large stone fireplace that fed the family. Betsy stood in the middle of the room mixing something in a large earthenware bowl. Behind her were other servants occupied in various stages of food preparation. At the table was the source of their laughter.

  Wiley, or Freewill, as he was apparently now known, was sitting at the table with a plate of biscuits and a cup of coffee.

  “Wiley,” Delany shared that brilliant smile again, “how are you feeling today?”

  Freewill responded with a wide grin. “Better, Miss Delany. It’s sore, but Betsy says I’m gonna be all right.”

  “Betsy.” Delany turned to the small woman. “I’m starving.”

  “Sit down, Miss Delany.” She turned to him. “Is you hungry, too, Mr. Field?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to ma’am me, Mr. Field. I’ll feed you. Now sit down.”

  Freewill laughed, and Betsy laughed with him. Like his parents, their discourse was playful but underpinned with love and understanding. They were both on the same side. They saw the world the same way.

  Field took a seat across from Delany at the table.

  Betsy placed ham and biscuits and steaming cups of coffee in front of them.

  “Freewill,” Delany started, “tell me why you chose a new name.”

  “Well, Miss Delany, it’s like this. We got us a new preacher. He’s been preaching for the last month or so. He tells lots of things from the Bible.” Freewill stopped to take a bite of biscuit. He washed it down with coffee. “One day he told about our freewill. Anyone who wants to come to Jesus can do just that, he said. It’s our ‘freewill choice,’ he said. Well, I knew it then, Miss Delany.” He paused to look around the table. “After I was freed, I took your name. Wiley Button. That was me. Now I have the names of the two who freed me: Freewill Button. That’s my name and always will be.”

  Field cleared his throat. It was a nice gesture for Delany to free a slave, but how was he to care for himself and a family? It was obvious he had no education to speak of. How could they expect to survive? “How do you provide for yourself and Betsy?”

  “The Good Lord gonna take care of us, Mr. Field.” Betsy’s sharp response slapped him into her reality.

  They wanted a chance. Like anyone else, given the opportunity they would succeed, or they would fail. At least now, they had the choice.

  “Now, Betsy,” Freewill soothed. “I work a piece of land that Miss Delany gave me, and Betsy and I work for Mr. Samuel.”

  Field nodded his response.

  “It’s a sweet thing to work for yourself, Mr. Field. A sweet thing.”

  “I have often thought so during my time in London.” He smiled at Freewill and was given a smile in return. “I worked alongside my father’s factor. There were many days I wished I was back home on my farm.”

  Isaac stepped into the kitchen.

  “Delany, the doctor is here. My mother thought you should know.”

  Once again, Delany radiated charm in response to Isaac Harrison. He didn’t know why that should bother him, but it did.

  Delany turned back to face him. “Mr. Archer, would you care to walk back to the house with me? There is something of which we should speak.”

  Field’s pride surged. “It would be an honor.”

  Outside, she took his offered arm once more. “The doctor told Mary that she has to stay put until the baby comes. He thinks it may be soon.”

  “Does that mean you need to stay, too?”

  “Normally, no.” She looked up into his eyes, the silver softened to gray concern. “She asked me to stay with her, and I told her I would.”

  “I can proceed without you.”

  “Not without my credentials, you can’t.”

  “I am concerned for your family. Lord Dunmore sent Philips after me. That puts all of you in danger.”

  “If Lord Dunmore sent Philips after you, he wouldn’t have let you go on the bridge.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “Philips would kill his mother if it meant he’d make a ha’penny. He saw an opportunity and took it. That’s all.”

  “I’ll need to speak to Samuel before I decide.”

  She nodded her accent. “I’ll go see the doctor.”

  12

  Field found Samuel Fleet in the back of his barn.

  “Archer, I was just on my way to see you and Delany.” Samuel, now older, was a bit shorter, thick of limb and trunk. His presence spoke strength. Strength of body, strength of character. And he wasn’t pleased about something.

  “What about?”

  “The boxes left on the wagon.”

  “Precisely the reason I came to find you.”

  Field told his story of bringing the guns to Williamsburg, Delany’s insistence on helping him, and her need to get Ben home.

  “I need to get the rifles to Williamsburg as quickly as possible.”

  “I’m afraid Delany is right. You will need her to move around in the counties.”

  “My concern is for your family. If it’s true that Josiah Philips is after me for Lord Dunmore then my presence here puts you all in danger.”

  Samuel frowned and raked his fingers through his beard. “Josiah Philips is an opportunist. He preys on the weak. He looks for the unprotected and picks them off. He takes cattle, chickens, anything that might be of use to himself.”

  “So you think he wasn’t after me in particular.”

  “I’d say not. He’s cunning. If he’d wanted you, he wouldn’t have let you go at the bridge.” Samuel swiped at the dust on his pants. “I think he grabbed you because he could.”

  “Has he bothered you out here? Stolen your cattle?”

  “Nope. It’s an odd thing about free men.” He raked his fingers through his beard once again. “They’re loyal. They fight for their land. We all work together here. We protect what is theirs and what is mine.”

  “I take it you have freed your slaves.”

  Samuel’s eyes narrowed, body tensed. “What’re you asking me?”

  “It’s illegal. How did you manage it?”

  “I didn’t ‘free’ them. They bought their freedom.”

  Of course. “How did they afford it?” Field ran a hand through his own hair and asked, “When it comes to that, how did you manage it? Your holdings are large.”

  “Not as large as they once were. We never had as many slaves as the big plantations. At most, we had ten. When they decided to purchase themselves, I only had eight.”

  “Do you regret it?” he asked.

  “No. My burden is lighter.”

  Isaac Harrison strode into the barn leaving Field wishing he could probe Samuel more on the matter. Delany Fleet’s lofty ideas were one thing. Living in her house in the city, she was in the same category with that preache
r, Wesley. Nice idea, but hardly practical. What did a shopkeeper or a city cleric know about mass producing tobacco or hemp or anything else?

  His father’s plantation was large, and the labor to run it was equally large. Hundreds, at least. He’d no idea how many slaves his father owned. Freeing hundreds of people without a plan was sheer recklessness. They’d starve with no land to employ them and no houses to shelter them. He couldn’t very well turn them out on a whim. If he did turn them out at all.

  My burden is lighter.

  “Isaac. We’ll break the hemp in two days’ time. Are you available?” Samuel asked.

  “I can manage it.”

  “Archer?”

  “At your service.” Until then, he would have to get to Kemp’s Landing and check with the militia.

  ~*~

  The rope of Mary’s bed creaked as Delany approached the room.

  “Then I can help you,” a hopeful Mary addressed Ruben.

  “Mrs. Tabb, you are free to do as you wish. My recommendation is to stay here in this bed until the baby comes,” Dr. Woodsmartin interjected and closed his bag. He stopped short of treading on Delany’s feet as he approached the door. “Mrs. Fleet,” he puffed in exasperation, “I have instructed Mrs. Tabb in the best course of action. What she chooses to do is on her own head. Should you or the other Mrs. Fleet desire my services again, you have only to send for me.”

  Ruben sat on the bed beside Mary and took her hand.

  “Dr. Woodsmartin, we are so very glad that you came to look after our Mary.” She stepped into the hallway in front of him. “We would very much appreciate your attendance tomorrow,” she whispered.

  “Very well.” He nodded and trod off down the hallway.

  Delany re-entered the room to find Mary attempting to pull herself up to a sitting position. For the second time since she arrived, Delany could feel the love and concern between two of her friends. This time it was the strain of Ruben’s heart as he navigated the tricky situation his wife laid before him.