The Dollmaker's Daughter, page 3
Amity sat next to her father in their chariot. A bundled Lucy perched next to the driver. Once out of the coach yard, Amity took a deep breath and placed a smile on her face. “Papa—”
“I know what you are going to say. I meant what I said, Amity. Simon Morgan will escort you, or I will send you home directly, and you will stay there for the duration.”
Irritation spiked. “How do you suppose you will accomplish that? Surely, Aunt has plans. It’s not as if we lived next to each other as we do at home.”
“Morgan will stay at Anderson’s. I will send for him and give him a list of your engagements as soon as you have completed it.”
“But—”
“No more.” He sighed and patted her knee. “It has been a long night.” He turned toward the window.
Aunt Clementine, who was actually her father’s aunt and her great-aunt, would admit to being six-foot tall, but everyone knew she was at least a couple of inches taller than that with a personality to match.
“Papa, no one would dare cross Aunt Clementine.”
“We are at war. Even Clementine, as formidable as she may seem, is no match for a man half her size.” Papa yawned.
What she would give for her pen. Nowhere else could she explode safely.
Within minutes, Papa’s breathing evened. He would sleep all the way to Williamsburg.
Amity’s heart warmed as she listened to the rhythm. He was her own father, dear soul. He only wanted what was best for her, but she couldn’t help her agitation. When would he realize she needed to make her own decisions? She turned her gaze toward the plantations and the river rolling past her window.
The coach neared the outskirts of a town and then rolled down a street. A row of white houses with black shutters next to the road announced their arrival in Williamsburg.
Amity eagerly scanned the landscape as energy from the city hummed around and through her.
On Francis Street, the driver stopped to allow a group of ladies to cross the street.
Papa woke. “What. Here already?”
Amity nodded, her smile wide.
He patted her knee. “You always did love the city, my girl. You get that from your mama.”
Her excitement created a euphoria in her heart that threatened forgiveness for everyone and everything that had ever gone wrong in her entire life. Her cheeks ached from smiling as they pulled up in front of Aunt Clementine’s.
After knocking and waiting several minutes, they let themselves in.
Servants bustled from room to room.
Aunt Clementine, dressed in her own hair, rather than a white wig, and an indigo mantua with a pale green petticoat, sat on her throne directing the madness. “Good afternoon, Reed. You came just in time. I’ve decided I’m leaving.” She reached for him to place a kiss in the air near his cheek.
“Clementine.” Amity’s father greeted her. “Did you just tell me that you are leaving?”
The lace in her cap fluttered with the violence of her affirmative gesture. “Yes. Reed, you did hear me correctly.”
“But where will you be going?”
“I intend to sail for Europe.”
“Have you gained permission from the Continental Congress for such a trip?”
“Don’t be silly. What do they have to do with anything?”
Papa turned from her aunt, hat, and gloves still in hand, and laid them on an empty chair. Once he’d shifted out of his great coat, he turned back to her and spoke again. “You need to request permission to sail to Europe. If you do, they will likely think you are a Tory. If you are a Tory, they will detain you. If they let you leave, you likely will not be able to return. You’re not a Tory, are you, Clementine?”
She huffed. “Of course not!” She plopped back down on one of two large, throne-like chairs behind her. If Aunt Clementine was six-feet tall, Uncle William was six-and-a-half feet. He’d commissioned the chairs for the two of them after searching far and wide for anything comfortable for the two to sit on.
As if just noting her presence her aunt gazed her way. “Amity, my dear child, how fares your mother?”
“Well, Aunt. She wished to come to you but decided she was needed at home.”
“I daresay you’ve been looking forward to this trip to town?”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“Well, I shan’t disappoint you as your father has disappointed me. Since I shan’t be leaving with the next tide, I think we had better put our heads together and decide what we will do whilst you are here.”
Amity threw her arms around her aunt. “Thank you, Aunt Clementine.”
“You are most welcome, dear girl. Now up to your rooms. It’s nearly time for dinner and I know you will want to freshen yourselves.”
Amity shed her brown woolen traveling clothes for her lavender muslin gown. She took care to place paper and ink on the desk by the window. She must capture her thoughts today, perhaps if her things were out, she would be more apt to make the time necessary.
Dinner at Clementine’s was always good. Today was no exception. Fricasseed chicken, turnips, bread, cheese, canned peaches.
“I’m afraid local travel is all you may have available to you at present, Clementine.” Papa took another sip of soup. “I am willing to take you home with me when I leave at the end of the session. In the meantime, the two of you should make the most of town while you are here. I have arranged for an old family friend to escort you both when I cannot attend you.”
Clementine bristled so hard that Amity thought her curls would straighten. “Reed Archer, do you presume to tell me what I may or may not do?”
Papa relaxed into his chair as his tone became even and soft. “Of course not, Clementine. But you cannot secure passage right now. And it’s hard to say who our allies will be in this endeavor.”
“Mr. Franklin is in Europe.”
“Franklin is in Philadelphia. Besides which, Franklin is a powerful man.”
“I will go to Barbados.”
“Clementine. Really. If you must go, go to your sons. Or come to Archer Hall. Ann would love to see you. Go somewhere where you have family to protect you.”
“I do not wish protection from adventure, Reed. Only armies.”
“I hear Anderson is still hosting balls every week.”
“You have heard correctly.” Clementine shook her head. “I can’t get the sight of Nero fiddling while Rome burned out of my head. What were the dear folks in Norfolk doing while this conflict raged around them? I expect the balls at Maury’s continued as well.”
Papa deflated. “Do what you will, Clementine, you will anyway.”
“Precisely.” Clementine softened in her victory. “Although you have given me a reason for a pause. What do you mean I cannot book passage?”
“The harbors are shut down. Surely you’ve heard the British navy has our ports blocked.”
“All of them?”
“The important ones. Congress would have to give you leave, but they aren’t likely to do that right now.”
“Who is this person you have engaged to escort me through my own town?”
“His name is Simon Morgan. His plantation is next to my own.”
“Are we encouraging him in his pursuit of our girl here?”
“No. If he wanted Amity, he’d have asked for her years ago.”
Amity flamed. Restraint is a virtue. She fisted her napkin into a ball in her lap instead of throwing it into her plate. “Papa must you keep saying that?”
“Which is precisely why I asked him. He should stay out of the way should anyone else come along.”
Amity shuddered and hoped the opposite was true. If she stuck to Simon perhaps, ‘anyone else’ would leave her alone. “Have you decided to stay then?”
“I’ve decided to think on it some more.” Clementine conceded.
Papa looked relieved as he picked up his glass. “Wise, Clementine.”
“Perhaps?” Amity shook with the thought.
Clementine turned toward her. “Yes, my dear?”
“What of the west? Perhaps the mountains?”
Papa stood up. “Amity. Your aunt is too old to be traipsing off to the mountains.”
Clementine stood to face him; a full head taller than Papa with eyes as bright as Simon’s electrical experiments.
“Excellent idea, my dear. It’s about time I paid a visit to my very old friends, Jedediah and Evelyn Eberly in Winchester. Perhaps you would wish to accompany me?”
Papa’s eyes widened.
Amity’s heart thudded in her chest.
“Perhaps I will engage that young man, Mr. Morgan, to accompany us. What say you to that?”
“Are they the couple that you courted with?” Amity asked.
“Yes, Jedediah and Evelyn courted at the same time as William and I. William and Jedediah grew up together, they were like brothers. Jedediah wrote such a heartfelt letter when William passed, I knew it was time I went to see them.”
“There is no use in telling you that such a trip could be dangerous.”
“Nonsense, Reed. Traveling is always dangerous.”
“Then, I will see you tomorrow. You--” he pointed at Amity “--I will see you in your Uncle William’s library before you retire for the evening.”
She nodded.
Papa walked deliberately away from the table.
Amity huffed a deep breath.
Clementine turned a sharp gaze toward her at the unladylike behavior.
“I don’t mean that my parents aren’t everything they are supposed to be. They are generous, kind— “
“And?”
“And they want me to marry before I am ready. I know I shall have to marry. And I truly wish to, but not before I’ve seen something of the world. What’s wrong with that? There is no one suitable at home anyway. You must know what I mean. You have the freedom to do as you wish.”
“How like your father you are.” Clementine placed a cool hand over Amity’s. “When your father said he would see you in William’s library for an instant it felt as though my William might be in there still waiting for me.” She patted Amity’s hand and retreated. “Marriage is not a prison, my dear. There is rest in a good marriage, and freedom as well.”
“If you say so, Aunt.” She didn’t believe it.
“And so we are clear, I will not be manipulated by your father, or you. Don’t put me in the middle of the two of you again. I shan’t defend you the next time.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“Good. Let’s have dessert and decide when we want to leave for the mountains.”
Amity enjoyed the brown betty dessert. But her father had waited long enough. She said good night to her aunt and approached Uncle William’s library carrying a small plate of the confection. It was his favorite.
A brace of candles illuminated the gray of her father’s temples. His quill scratched across a sheet of paper. “Sit down.” He said without looking up from his letter.
Amity crossed the room and quietly placed the dessert on the desk before him. The fork tinkled when he pushed it away. Two stuffed leather chairs stood before the desk. She balanced on the edge of one as he fixed her with his gaze.
“What are you about? Can you not see what dangerous times we are living in?”
“Aunt Clementine says I remind her of you.”
"You remind me of your mother, and that is what scares me.” He came out from around the desk and sat on a settee placed under a window. The glass reflected a wavy version of herself. She took a seat next to him to avoid the distraction of watching herself.
"Annie always had a mind of her own and the determination to make her own way in the world."
“What do you mean? Surely I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Amity, the things that you are searching for are at home.”
“How will I ever know that? How can I be content to stay in one place all my life if I’ve never experienced its opposite? Did you know the Eberlys left twenty years ago to build themselves a home in the wilderness?” Her arms prickled in gooseflesh.
Her father nodded his head up and down rolling his eyes. “And my telling you isn’t enough.”
“No.”
“We have raised you with too much freedom.”
“I think not.”
“You would do. Happiness does not come from outside yourself. It comes from inside as you learn to be thankful for what you have.”
“I am thankful for everything you have ever done for me. I feel as though I will bust if I don’t get out of here. I wish to see the mountains. At least once before I’m staked down by the skirt with the needs of children.”
“What will I tell your mother? That I let you go traipsing off into Indian territory alone with your crazy aunt?”
“Winchester is hardly Indian territory. It’s a town now. Aunt Clementine said she will ask Simon to attend us. Do you think he will?”
“It depends on how long you expect to be gone. The ground is still too cold for planting. He may be able to manage it, but not for long.”
Amity sat quietly waiting for her father to say yes. She’d felt it coming the way she’d always been able to tell that he was giving in.
“Are you prepared for all the consequences that may result from such an adventure?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m fairly certain. I know that my book may fail, but without taking a risk I will never know.”
He looked as if she’d slapped him. “This is about a book you want to write?”
“Of course.” She swung her palm out in front of herself. “A Diary of the Western Mountains by Amity Archer. Of course I’m open to better titles.”
“You miss my point. Yes, your book might fail, although I doubt it. Your mother and I have always known you had a way of the phrase about you.”
She warmed at his praise and leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Papa. Right now, I am working on my thoughts of Williamsburg at war. Do you think you could take me to see the troops?”
He held her briefly then turned to face her. “The troops? One thing at a time. Do you realize that you may be compromised and forced to marry on this trip?”
She snorted. “I very seriously doubt it. After all, Simon will be there. You know he will take care of me, just like Field. He always has. Just like Field.”
“Do you dislike him so much?”
She hesitated a fraction of a heartbeat before telling the truth. Perhaps the truth would help him understand that she was capable of making her own decisions. “No. I loved him once, but I know we will never suit.”
Her father stared. “It’s just as well that he didn’t offer for you then.”
“Yes. I would hate to hurt him, but how could I be married to someone who forgets my existence?”
“No one could ever forget your existence, my dear child.” He took her hand. “I must have the answer to this question: do you understand that you may very well have to marry Simon Morgan if things go wrong on this journey?”
Surely not. Aunt Clementine and Lucy would be there. All would be well. “Yes. I understand that if things go horribly wrong, I will have to marry him.” Amity shuddered. Nothing that exciting ever happened. She would be vigilant and Aunt Clementine doubly so—she always was.
“And you accept that risk. There will be no turning back.”
Amity let out a deep breath. “Yes.”
6
Simon swallowed the last of his bread and cheese as Reed walked into the parlor at Anderson’s.
Reed placed a portfolio on the table. “I’ve brought a list of engagements that Amity and her aunt are planning to attend. I have marked on them the ones I will attend myself, which you can see is most of them.” Reed slid the list across the table.
Simon glanced over the busy schedule.
“I shall require your assistance on three or four evenings if you are still amenable.” Reed took a seat and declined a cup of coffee. Tomorrow night Amity would need Simon to attend a party at the Peytons’. A singular thing to see you guarding my daughter’s door. You were guarding her door, were you not?”
Simon nodded, “Yes, sir. The crowd below consisted of rowdy shirtmen worse for drink. I thought it best.”
“Yes, well, my delay could not be helped. My foreman wanted correcting before he destroyed my sheep.”
Simon remained silent. It wouldn’t help his suit one bit to tell her father just what he thought about sending his daughter alone to stay in a common ordinary for all that he had regained her closer acquaintance. “Yes. I understand your sentiment.” Simon didn’t move.
“I thought it was like that.”
“Sir?” Talking to Reed was often like that; he was always a thought or two ahead of where Simon thought he was.
“You’ll speak to me when you’re ready, eh? Well.” Reed rose and collected his portfolio. “I can respect that. Until then I must be off.”
Simon had planned to call on Amity tomorrow morning, but it would have to be today. The meeting of the Society was paramount. Before it was a matter of curiosity, now it was regarding the stone. He would need to find out the particulars of the party to determine how he could do both.
As he crossed the commons and made his way to Amity’s aunt’s home, a brisk wind blew the warmth of the sun toward the river.
Simon was escorted into a large parlor lined with burgundy paper. At one end, a very tall woman rose from a most extraordinary chair.
Amity joined him from somewhere off to the side. “Aunt Clementine, may I introduce Mr. Simon Morgan.”
“You noticed my throne.” A twinkle sparked her hazel eyes, which were level with his own.
“Ma’am.”
“My husband had it made for me. We are tall. And none of those flimsy things will quite suffice for real sitting.”
Simon had to smile. Was there such a thing as pretend sitting? Though in fairness he did know what she meant about the fragility and shortness of chairs.
“My William was a kind man, Mr. Morgan.”
He must have been.
Amity offered him a seat across from her on a chair. She perched on a settee.
Outside a carriage wheeled by.
“Reed tells me that you have offered to escort us on our outings?”
