Page 12 of The Indigo Heiress

11

Liberty, when it begins to take root, is a plant of rapid growth.

George Washington

Once a contentious price was set and the meeting adjourned, Leith accompanied his factors and clerks into the Raleigh’s dining room, where they commandeered a large table. These men, all Scots, some of them kin who’d consented to live abroad and manage the colonial stores his father established, deserved a memorable supper at least. The bountiful menu was odd if impressive. Cheshire pork pie he knew, filled with tenderloin, autumn’s apples, and Indies spices. But carrot puffs? Corn cakes? Salmagundi?

“A salat with vegetables and meat,” McCann explained of the latter. “Quite tasty, though I prefer the onion pie.”

“A trencher of chicken hash for me,” Innes said as ale was set down in towering tankards.

But Leith hardly heard them. Positioned by a window, he had a view of the Raleigh’s front porch, where a certain young woman stood on the top step, talking with several gentlemen young and old. They seemed rapt as she spoke, much as he’d been in the Apollo Room half an hour before.

“So,” he began, taking his eyes off her, “tell me the name of the liberty-loving lass with the indigo shawl.”

Grins commenced in the wake of chuckling on all sides of him. Hendry finally said, “Miss Catesby, you mean?”

Catesby. Leith felt a punch to his gut that rivaled the one to his still-sore eye. “Does she have a forename?”

“Indeed she does,” Innes answered. “Miss Juliet Catesby.”

Leith took a sip of ale, feigning a calm he didn’t feel. “Daughter to Colonel Landon Catesby of Royal Vale.”

“One of them. There’s an even comelier Catesby, if you can believe that.” Hendry couldn’t stop grinning. “Younger. Quieter too.”

This brought outright laughter from all but Leith. “So the eldest is a bit of a firebrand.”

“Miss Juliet’s generally polite but a bit of a firebrand when it suits her, aye,” McCann explained, respect in his tone. “She has strong views, most of them having to do with tobacco and us factors and you merchant lords and the like.”

Amid their continued amusement, Leith looked again toward the porch as Miss Catesby left it and headed east down the congested street. She drew her tasseled silk shawl about her shoulders, passing her daybook to the maid beside her. In seconds she’d disappeared from view if not from memory.

“She lodges at the widow Campbell’s when she’s in town and dines at the club there, a private room reserved for the best guests away from the gaming tables.” Innes drew a sleeve across his upper lip, removing the ale’s froth. “A bit more refined for genteel lasses.”

“You ken an uncommon amount about her,” Leith told him.

Flushing, Innes took another sip. “She comes to the Upper and Lower James stores oft enough on business for her father. Royal Vale sits betwixt the two. Sometimes she brings her sister, Miss Loveday.”

Leith rolled this over in his mind, trying to come to terms with his new Virginia view. When he was behind his desk in Glasgow, American matters seemed more mundane, reduced to columns and sums, though their politics were fraught. Here, amid all the color and confusion of the colonies, his simplistic stance shifted. Much had changed in the decade he’d been away. He’d had no recollection of the Catesbys back then. Royal Vale had not been the force it was now.

“So, what is your plan, sir?” McCann asked as dinner was served atop shiny pewter platters. “Rather, how long will you be in Virginia?”

Long enough to avoid news print and let the curfuffle at home die down.

“Until business is done to my satisfaction.” Leith cut into his tenderloin, his stomach rumbling. “I plan to visit each store, meet with the planters my Glasgow clerks correspond with and you deal with regularly. I may go to the northern neck—Maryland.”

Innes looked up, knife and fork suspended. “I’ll secure horses for when that time comes.”

“First there’s Forrest Bend.”

“I’ll arrange for a bateau upriver then. Due warning, though. The Ravenals will want to entertain you in true Virginia style till Twelfth Night.”

“January?” Leith looked down at his burgeoning plate. He’d hardly put a dent in it. By January he’d be too heavy to mount a horse.

He wasn’t here to eat or be entertained, though if he didn’t take time for the latter, how would any courtship commence? Nay, courtship wasn’t the right word. More business arrangement.

The miniature rested in his waistcoat pocket, hidden but never out of mind. And now that he’d just seen the object of his affection—his scheme— his determination doubled ... though perhaps a more biddable lass would be best.

Juliet bade farewell to the pug-nosed Mrs. Campbell and left her lodgings to return to Royal Vale the next day, ruminating on the meeting all the way. The agreed-upon tobacco price was fair, and she’d felt a small triumph sparring with the tobacco lords and their minions. She knew none of them personally nor wanted to. Year to year their presence varied, though their finely tailored, flashy garments never did.

No sooner had Juliet and Lilith disembarked from the bateau on Royal Vale’s landing than Loveday hastened down the hill from the house, her skirts ballooning in the cool wind. “You’re just in time.” She tucked her arm through Juliet’s as they walked up the hill. “We’ll enjoy some hot chocolate on the piazza as our days outside are numbered.”

“I have much news and a few fripperies from town to help adorn your gown for the winter season.” Juliet gestured to the portmanteau Lilith carried. “’Tis the loveliest shade of velvet seafoam, newly arrived from Three Angels millinery in London. Also a new lace cap for you—and Rilla and Lilith too.”

“You are ever so mindful of us at home. I suppose you got Father some new daybooks at the printers?” At Juliet’s nod, Loveday continued. “Well, he’s roused himself in what seems a recovery and has ridden to Williamsburg. He could have gone to the bookbindery himself.”

“When did he depart?”

“In the forenoon. He didn’t say when he’d return.”

“How I wish I’d tarried in town.” Juliet gave a wry smile. “I did walk by the residence of the lady in question but saw nothing and no one.”

Loveday gave a little laugh. “Well, we shall meet her at the ball, this mysterious Englishwoman with the poetic name.”

“Don’t remind me.” Juliet nearly groaned. “The ball, I mean, not Widow Payne.”

“But all is in order, is it not? You equal Mama in that regard. Her hospitality lives on in your impeccable planning.”

“And in your hostessing. It takes the two of us, truly.”

“I look forward to the festivities even if you don’t.” Loveday smiled brightly. “We’ve not entertained since we came out of mourning.”

They sat down at the linen-clad table as Lilith went inside. Mahala brought the tray, the George I silver chocolate pot that had been their parents’ wedding present foremost. It hadn’t lost its luster after almost thirty years, reminding Juliet that Father hadn’t either if he was courting again.

“So, tell me about the meeting at the Raleigh.” Loveday poured the fragrant chocolate with such a practiced hand that nary a drop went awry. “I suppose it was frightfully crowded, as usual.”

“More tobacco lords this time from Glasgow, including one wearing an enigmatic eye patch, though I didn’t get a good look at him given the rumpus.”

“Was our soon-to-be guest among them—Mr. Buchanan?”

“I don’t know. The proceedings moved along with such fervor and confusion I didn’t give it much thought. I heard the Glasgow merchants are a bit curious as to all the noise the colonies are making since Boston’s tea debacle.”

“Hard to believe three hundred forty-two chests were tossed overboard. A tidy tea party, though. Those mas querading as Indians even swept the decks clean before they left. Father said the stuff was old, hardly the quality of the smuggled Dutch tea many are drinking.”

“’Tis a warning, that tea dumping.” Juliet had spent the last evening reading copies of Virginia’s papers in her tavern room. “A sign Americans won’t take tyranny and taxes any longer. The Sons of Liberty, at least.”

“Yet Colonel Washington condemned it and Mr. Franklin said he’d personally pay the tea back.” Loveday sighed. “Most colonists still see themselves as British subjects. I do too. Though we’re American born, we were schooled overseas, at least. I miss Bridelee Boarding School and the Siddons sisters.”

“I’ve always hoped to return to England but doubt that will ever happen, especially if there’s war.” Juliet sipped her chocolate. At least Parliament couldn’t levy a tax on cows and cream. “London is unlike any other place on earth, though Edinburgh is said to rival it.”

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence before Loveday reached into her pocket and took out a letter, then slid it across the table to Juliet. “An express from Philadelphia. Our travelers have arrived there safely, Aunt Damarus writes.”

Jacob and Armistead? Juliet pocketed the letter to pore over it later. “Truly, that is the best news I could have on my homecoming.”

“Indeed.” With a smile, Loveday took a second tea cake. “Now, let’s talk seafoam ribbon and lace caps.”