A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (11 page)

Charles felt slightly calmer by the time he stabled his horse and walked into the house.  At least Kit had agreed with him, which took some of the responsibility off his shoulders.  He only wanted to do what was right by his niece, and in turn, his brother.  With Louisa staying at his house, it had been his responsibility to make sure that everything was aboveboard, and he had failed miserably.  He’d never expected sweet little Louisa to be so wanton.  She’d always been such a beautiful child, loving and obedient.  Charles momentarily thanked his lucky stars for having a son.  Girls were too much trouble.  He recalled his own courtship.  True, he’d started courting Annabel when she was fifteen, but they didn’t marry until she turned sixteen, and Charles had never laid a finger on her until their wedding night.  He’d laid his fingers elsewhere, but not on his future bride. 

Annabel was sitting in her favorite chair, viciously stabbing a needle through some needlework, her mouth compressed into a thin line.  She hardly ever questioned his judgment outright, but the look on her face was usually enough to alert Charles to the fact that she was displeased and would not let matters rest until he set things to rights.

“Belle, are you angry with me?” Charles asked, coming to sit next to his wife, but not daring to touch her.

“Angry does not begin to describe it,” she spat out.  “What you did this morning was unforgivable.  Simply unforgivable.  Instead of handling the situation quietly and discreetly, you practically shouted from the castle walls that your niece and brother-in-law have been caught in a compromising position, ruining both their lives in the process.  Louisa’s reputation is now tainted, and Father has forbidden Tom to travel to England.  Tom is devastated.  Had you handled this with
discretion, we might have avoided a scandal, sparing everyone involved.  As it stands, we have no choice but to force a marriage.”  Annabel never looked at Charles during her monologue, continuing to sew as if her very life depended on it.

“Belle, you are right.  I acted intemperately, but Louisa is my niece.  I’ve known her since the day she was born, and I have a duty to her and my brother.  If Tom wanted a bit of fun, he should have bedded a maid.”

“Is that what you did?” Annabel was staring at him, her eyes narrowed in speculation.  Charles had never told his wife of his youthful indiscretions, and now didn’t seem like a good time to start.

“No, my sweet.  You were my first love.”  Well, technically that was true, in the spiritual sense. 

“Of course,” Annabel said, rolling her eyes.  “It’s all right, Charlie.  You don’t have to lie to me.  I know you’ve had other women, and I don’t mind as long as it was before we were married.  I suppose you are right.  Tom should have picked someone else, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.”

“No, it doesn’t.  Is Tom very angry with me?  Louisa will make him a wonderful wife.  She is beautiful, clever, and wealthy.  What more can a young man want?”  Charles got his answer directly from Tom, who walked into the room, a
murderous look on his face.

“A young man might want the freedom to make his own choice.  I’m not going to marry her, Charles,” Tom said.  “She’s still a maid, and if she isn’t, it certainly isn’t my doing.  I won’t be forced into marriage over a few stolen kisses.  Thanks to you, Father has forbidden me to go to England.”

Charles rose to his feet, towering over his brother-in-law.  Sometimes it was nice to be the tallest man in the room.  “You will marry her, and you will consummate the marriage if I have to stand there holding a candle and giving instructions.  A few kisses might have been overlooked, but from what I understand it was considerably more than that.  She is naught but a naïve girl, but at eighteen, you should have known better.  There are other ways to satisfy your needs without compromising my niece.  And God help you if you try to run out on her, I will personally come to England and drag you back home.  Is that understood?”

“I’m afraid he’s right, son.”  Mr. Gaines entered the room, the sound of his walking stick punctuating his words.  He looked
stern as he spoke the words, but there was a twinkle in his eye that was hard to miss.  “You must marry the girl.  I’d marry her myself if I were fifty years younger.  What a beauty she is.  I can’t blame you for losing your head.”

Tom took a deep breath, trying to control his exasperation.  “I’m not denying her beauty or charm.  I just don’t want to marry her right now.  I want to go to England and see something of the world before I settle down and start a family.”

“I’m afraid that ship sailed when you decided to slide your hand under her skirt,” his father said with a smirk.  “We’ll have the banns read in church on Sunday, and you will be married in thirty days’ time.  And say thank you to Charles for not horse-whipping you.  I would have whipped any man who dared to touch my darling Annabel.  Charles knew that, didn’t you, Charlie?”  The old man chuckled, winking at Charles before turning back to his son.  “With any luck, you’ll give me a grandchild to dawdle on my knee before God sees fit to take me.  I’d like a granddaughter as pretty as Louisa.  Do you think you can manage that?”

Tom just looked at all of them with disgust before striding out of the room.  Charles had to admit that he felt sorry for him.  

The morning was dreary and cool, a steady mist coating everything with a patina of moisture.  Drops of dew rolled off the leaves, falling like tears onto the dirt of the street and mixing with mud already churned by hooves and wheels of passing carts.  A huge pile of fresh manure lay in the middle of the road, steaming in the chilly air.  Valerie shivered, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head as she stepped from the inn.  She had to admit that she was glad to leave the place.  She’d have nothing but sad memories of the week they’d spent in eighteenth-century Jamestown. 

Mr. Carson was already waiting downstairs, his horses stomping their hooves restlessly
and tossing their heads to avoid the drizzle falling into their eyes.  The back of the wagon was loaded with barrels, leaving just enough room for Alec to sit.  The man gave Valerie a friendly smile as Alec helped her up onto the bench.  She was grateful not to have to sit on the dirty straw of the wagon, but quickly realized that Alec might have gotten the better part of the deal.  Mr. Carson was inclined to talk, and talk he did, without pausing to hear the answers.  Judging by his attire and general lack of grooming, Valerie assumed that the man was either a bachelor or a widower.  His coat was torn in several places; his boots were filthy, and his hat was bent out of shape in several places, making him look quite disreputable.  He could, however, be a source of information, so Valerie settled in to listen patiently. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Whitfield.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Carson said,
tipping his hat to Valerie before taking up the reins.  “I think you will find Williamsburg to your liking, ma’am.  Your husband tells me that you’re searching for your son.  Well, let me tell you, if I were a young man looking for adventure that’s where I would go.  Of course, I would probably join the Continental Army, but if I couldn’t, Williamsburg would be my choice.  Teeming with life, it is. 

There’s lots of entertainment to be found.  Not of the disrespectable kind, my dear lady.  There are run-ins between
the Lobsterbacks and the inhabitants of the town, not to mention the attacks on the Royalists.  Those are always good for a bit of fun.  Nothing like watching some poor sod dragged from his house in the middle of the night and humiliated in front of the crowd.  Most of the time they get off with just bruised pride, but sometimes things do turn ugly.  Goes further than a bit of a lark, it does.  Some people are just baying for blood.  Leave the poor merchants alone, I say.  Direct your energies toward the military.  What good is attacking a banker or a butcher, I ask you?” 

Mr. Carson scratched his head, either confused by lack of common sense shown by the Tories in attacking the merchants or plagued by lice.  He jammed his hat back on his head and continued, giving Valerie a nearly toothless smile.     

“On the whole, Williamsburg is a rebel town in my opinion.  His Excellency, General Washington himself, got his surveyor’s license from the College of William and Mary, did you know that? It’s one of the finest institutions of learning in these here Colonies.  Has a Royal Charter and all.  General Washington was just a young lad at the time, but we are proud of the association all the same.  Some of the best legal minds of the colony have been educated there.”  Mr. Carson seemed to be warming to this theme, so Valerie decided to cut in. 

“Tell me Mr. Carson, would there be a place in Williamsburg where we can trade some
valuables for money?  We haven’t been in Virginia long, so I would appreciate any insight you could give me on the currency of the colony.”

“Ah, there you might have a problem, my dear Mrs. Whitfield.  You are better off holding on to your
valuables.  The paper currency is only worth as much as the people’s trust in the government, and that changes from day to day.  Mr. Randolph himself had signed all the new notes to authenticate them, with “Death to Counterfeit” printed on the back, but that doesn’t stop the forgers, no ma’am.  There are many counterfeit notes circulating throughout the colony, so most people still prefer to get paid in coin.  Silver is silver, but paper is only good for wiping your arse with, if you’ll pardon my saying so, if it’s not backed by anything.  Lots of people still prefer the barter system.  At least you get something of value for your pains, not just a worthless piece of paper with a signature.  Do you know of a place to stay?”

“No, we would be most grateful if you could recommend a respectable inn.”  Valerie wiped the moisture off her face, wishing it would stop drizzling.  It was such a miserable morning, much like her mood.  Alec sat quietly
in the back of the wagon, his eyes closed.  He wasn’t sleeping, but fatigue was etched into the lines of his face, suddenly making him look older.

“
There are several inns on Duke of Gloucester Street.  There’s the White Hart, and the King’s Arms, and Shield’s Tavern.  That’s where I’m headed, as a matter of fact.  The proprietors are good friends of mine, and will give you a clean room and meals, should you desire it.  The taproom tends to get somewhat rowdy in the evenings, but not a British soldier in sight.  They don’t frequent the place.  And they do have the best beer, if I might be permitted to say so.  After all, it’s provided by yours truly.”  Mr. Carson’s laugh sounded like the opening and closing of a creaky door.  So that’s what was in the barrels. 

Thankfully, the ride to Williamsburg wasn’t a long one, and the outskirts of the town began to appear on the horizon.  Valerie turned slightly, watching Alec as they drove into the town.  Mr. Carson was still blathering on about something, but she was curious to see her husband’s reaction.  Despite his anxiety about Finn, Alec was excited to be in the future.  He was drinking everything in, analyzing the changes and familiarizing himself with the politics of the
time.  Alec looked around with great interest as the wagon rumbled down the street. 

Duke of
Gloucester Street was the main street of the town and was lined on both sides with various buildings.  Some of them were built of wood, but others were built of brick, looking solid and prosperous compared to the primitive structures of seventeenth-century Jamestown.  Most of the buildings had shops on the ground floor, boasting everything from a wig maker to a jeweler.  The impressive façade of the Capitol building could be seen at the end of the street, with it being the tallest structure in the town.  The street was teeming with wagons and carriages, and people darted between the contraptions to cross the street.  Many well-dressed ladies and gentlemen walked on the sidewalk, giving the town an air of prosperity.  Shops were everywhere, selling foodstuffs, bolts of fabric, hats, and even books.  They passed a printer’s storefront, followed by a chemist.  Valerie wondered what eighteenth-century medicine was like compared to their own time.  Surely, it wasn’t as primitive.  It might be a good idea to stop in at the chemist to see if she could find something useful to take home. 

Shield’s Tavern
was everything Mr. Carson said it would be.  The taproom was crowded with patrons, but the rooms upstairs were clean and bright, with canopied beds and gaily painted ceramic pitchers and ewers on the nightstand.  There were even clean towels, and a copper bathtub could be made available upon request, for an extra consideration.  The meals were served in the downstairs dining room, which was thankfully quieter than the taproom.  They would make the inn their home while searching for Finn.  The location was ideal, being at the very center of town. 

Alec helped Mr. Carson unload his shipment to thank him for the lift to
Williamsburg while Valerie went up to their room.  She felt a nagging misery as she took off her damp cloak and sat down, hands in her lap.  Compared to Jamestown, Williamsburg was booming.  According to Mr. Carson, there were several thousand inhabitants, half of whom were Negro slaves, plus the people coming and going to and from the surrounding areas.  How would they find Finn?  It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, assuming the needle was even there.  Maybe Finn had come by here, but who is to say he remained?  He might have been intimidated by the place and moved on. 
Oh Finn, where are you?
 

Valerie closed her eyes, trying to feel something, some gut feeling telling her whether Finn was close, but all she felt was a
vast emptiness, yawning like a chasm inside her soul.  She’d lost her son, was separated from her daughter, missing her sister, and completely at a loss as to what to do.  Alec seemed optimistic about coming here, but Valerie didn’t share his enthusiasm.  She had no idea what to do if they failed to find Finn.