Bring It Close (16 page)

About to make a scathing retort, Jesamiah was interrupted by a booming, authoritative voice.

“Then you should. Teach is a madman, and mad men are dangerous.” The speaker stepped away from the group he had been talking to, transferred his glass of wine to his left hand and held out his right. “Governor Alexander Spotswood. I understand you to be Jesamiah Acorne?”

Noticing the discourteous lack of his title, Jesamiah took a moment to decide whether to accept the handshake or not. His head tipped slightly to one side he scrutinised the man; mid-forties, well built with the encroaching signs of a paunch belly, a straight nose and direct eyes that matched his razor-sharp attitude. He was dressed elegantly but not expensively. A man who preferred to get things done rather than prance around in gold-buckled shoes. Brandishing his sling, Jesamiah gave a token bow and offered his left hand. “M’shoulder’s barely healed. I ain’t supposed to move it more than necessary.”

“I believe you are here to take over la Sorenta? It is a fine property, though aside from the house and stabling, somewhat neglected. We cannot afford to waste land here along the Rappahannock. I am encouraging farmers to settle, to push westward, don’t ye know? There’s some fine ground further in, all it needs is for the forest to be cleared and crops to be planted. Wheat, to plant wheat, that’s what we need.”

Indicating two vacant chairs the Governor seated himself inviting Jesamiah to join him and chivvying Maynard away.

“Forgive me for saying so, but who is going to grow wheat when there is money in tobacco?” Jesamiah wondered how the Governor knew so much about him and why he was bothering to answer. He really did not care one way or the other for Virginia, or Governor Spotswood’s idealistic plans. As he expected, the answer was direct.

“Tobacco brings in a profit when the harvest inclines to be good and when only the best is exported. I am dealing with that issue by the initiation of various inspection schemes.” Spotswood laughed, “Though not everyone likes my reforms.”

The laugh faded and he scowled at a group of men near the entrance who glowered as ferociously back. “Those who have a brain between their ears see the sense of what I am doing. No tobacco is to leave Virginia without an assurance of quality. Like most of them along the Rappahannock here, you grow Sweetscented, I assume?”

“Aye, though when I get m’bearings I reckon I’ll change to Oronoco. It’s a better crop for making money.”

Spotswood tapped snuff from a small gold box on to his hand, noisily sniffed it up his nostrils, dismissive. “No, no, far too strong for the Englishman’s taste.”

“I’d not sell to the English.”

The Governor frowned, his forehead wrinkling and eyes narrowing. “Aside from such an idea being against English trade laws, ye would entertain the damned Spanish and French markets? I think not, my lad, I think not!”

Leaning back in his chair – drawing in his feet as a pair of exuberant dancers whirled too close – Jesamiah smiled lazily. “I ain’t a farmer, I’m a sailor and a trader. I’d take m’crop m’self, sell it where I can get the highest price, so why not Oronoco to sell to the Dons and Frenchies? We are not at war any more; last month’s spat blew over in a few weeks.” He chuckled humourlessly. “Must have been one of the shortest wars known. Lasted all of twelve days, or so we heard in Nassau.”

Spotswood hrrumphed at being gainsaid, argued, “Mark my word, we will be at war again with one or other of ‘em soon – an’ even they don’t like trash tobacco. Poor stuff mixed with floor sweeping and dust might sell once, the buyer will never come back for more. Which is why I am bringing in my inspection reforms. Quality Virginia Tobacco. Guaranteed.”

Inspections would be impossible to oversee. “Out of interest, Sir,” Jesamiah asked, “just how are you planning on enforcing your reform? There is nothing you could do to stop me loading my hogsheads of tobacco onto my ship and sailing away with it.”

“Give me time, Acorne and my ideas will be accepted. Without a signed and sealed inspection pass, traders will not accept a cargo. You’ll see. You’ll see.”

The dance was ending. Slapping his free hand on his knee, Jesamiah joined in the applause. He had to admit to himself that Alicia was most alluring. He watched Trent go up to her, say something which made her laugh. Should he let the fellow run the plantation? Or did he want to be rid of it?

“To sell tobacco you have to grow it,” he said. “The last harvest has been bad and pirates roam the Chesapeake and Atlantic coast. One or other will shred the profits to nothing.”

Spotswood sucked his cheeks a moment, then conceded the point, though Jesamiah had the idea that he had been about to say something entirely different. “Poor harvests will cripple us much as they did for those first settlers in 1607. Do you know y’history, Acorne?” Spotswood gave Jesamiah no opportunity to answer yea or nay, but launched onward without a pause for breath.

“One hundred and forty-three men and women under the command of Captain Newport almost starved to death. They sailed the
Sarah Constant
,
Godspeed
and
Discovery
thirty miles up the river they named the James in honour of the King, tied the ships to trees and set about building the first English settlement in the Americas. All the land not in the hands of the Spanish or the French they claimed as a colony for England and called it Virginia in honour of Elizabeth the Virgin Queen.” He smiled ironically, “We tend to name a lot of places after our monarchs.”

Jesamiah nodded. He’d noticed.

Spotswood pointed at the window indicating the dark night beyond the lights and movement reflected in the glass. “Take Urbanna here and Annapolis, both named for Queen Anne. Then we have Williamsburg as our capital town – and Maryland. I fought for Anne, you know. Served with Marlborough at Blenheim. God is my life but that was a battle I am both proud to remember and afeared to recollect! The damage to men and horses was horrendous. Horrendous.”

“Don’t see anyone falling over their feet to stamp our King George’s name on anything,” Jesamiah responded. “The House of Hanover ain’t being glorified much, is it?”

The Governor cleared his throat tactfully. He was a king’s man – he had to be, but he also disliked the German King, George. He also possessed a sense of humour. “Give it time, someone will find a turnip field for him. Though I’d rather the man would at least learn English before we started regaling him.” Taking a glass from a servant’s tray the Governor handed it to Jesamiah and took one for himself.

The champagne was one of the best vintages Jesamiah had tasted, and wearing these ridiculous clothes he reasoned he may as well behave the part of a landed gentleman to the hilt. He raised the glass. “To the King. May he soon be suitably landed.”

Raising his own glass, Spotswood chuckled a response; “To the King. May his American rivers be long, his soil fertile – and may he stay as far away from them as possible!”

They touched glasses, drank.

“Those first settlers, Acorne, saw that Virginia was green and the game was plentiful, but they had inept leaders ill suited to making hard decisions and attending even harder labour. They built their settlement on the marsh, which brought disease and famine. Within three years, more than half of them were dead, but God intervened and the colony survived. I tell you this little homily for a reason. We cannot survive on tobacco. We can grow it, we can sell it – to Englishmen, the French or the Spanish, to whoever will buy it in fact, but we cannot eat it. What is more, where tobacco grows the soil falls dead, nothing more will thrive in it. So we clear more forest and plant more tobacco and take the life from yet more ground. What do we do? Follow this example all the way to the mountains, then over the ridge and into whatever godforsaken wilderness lies beyond?”

It was a rhetorical question but Jesamiah answered anyway. “So we grow wheat as well?”

The Governor slapped his shoulder, the uninjured one. “You have it, my boy. You have it! We grow wheat as well.”

Wheat. Real farming. Ploughing, irrigating, harvesting, threshing. Jesamiah had no intention of becoming a farmer. None at all. He decided to change the subject. “Tell me, Governor, do the mountains truly have a blue ridge?”

Eager, alighting enthusiastically on his favourite topic, Spotswood nodded. “Aye, they do; it’s a haze of the light or so they tell me. Y’know I took an expedition across there a couple of years back? First white people to do so. Knights of the Golden Horseshoe we called ourselves.” His fingers went to a lapel pin, a horseshoe fashioned in pure gold. “You should see the Big Valley, lad, the Shenandoah.” He closed his eyes, shook his head, remembering. “By Gad, our Lord used all his love to fashion such absolute beauty. The native Indians call it the Daughter of the Stars.” He snapped his eyes open. “We need to push westward. There is land out there for the taking, land for growing wheat and corn – and tobacco and cotton. It is there, it is all there. Waiting.”

Tempted to say he had no interest in pushing westward, in the condition of the soil, clearing forests or growing and exporting tobacco, Jesamiah held his tongue but quipped instead; “Plenty of opportunity for King George yet then.”

Thirty Two

North Carolina

While the women of Governor Eden’s household had initially objected to the evening’s dinner arrangements, his other guests, male and female, were thoroughly enjoying themselves. And Tiola had to admit, albeit reluctantly, when he put his mind to it Edward Teach could be charming. He knew how to flatter, how to tease just that little bit near the edge – then draw back before offence was given. Could tell a tale that had every man and woman at the table listening, mouth agape, the food before them forgotten. He had them all caught, like fishes to the line. No wonder Bath Town so welcomed him. He brought entertainment as well as money.

He was dressed well, smart; was clean, tidy, every inch the gentleman. And not unattractive at first glance. On arrival he had kissed the ladies’ hands, then escorted Elizabeth-Anne, as the eldest and senior woman present, to table where he proceeded to enthral everyone with tales and anecdotes, his broad Bristolian accent more subdued and not so noticeable. Listening, keeping herself as unobtrusive as possible, Tiola marvelled at his vocal dexterity. He had every one of those present, even herself at one point, eating out of his hand as he regaled them with daring adventures and exploits of his life on the High Seas.

He recounted how he had begun his life at sea after running away from home to become a midshipmen at the age of twelve. He had heard of a privateer anchored in Bristol harbour, her captain was looking for crew.

“I had heard of him,” he said, “my mother had spoken often of this p’tickler cap’n.” He had winked and guffawed, and added, “And aye, I often wondered when she did, why she’d ‘ad a twinkle glistenin’ in her old eye!”

They had laughed and he had gone on to say how and where he had fought and what great battles they had won.

“I was presented at Court to good Queen Anne,” he boasted, after raising several toasts to her memory. “It was after the Battle of Gibraltar – I was there, my ship was nigh on blown to pieces.” And he had described the battle, thrilling them all with exciting detail.

John Ormond in particular was impressed by the fact that his future son-in-law had personally spoken to the old Queen, and declared, after another toast, that his daughter was fortunate to be wedding such a distinguished man of the world. Mary Ormond, seated next to Teach, blushed and smiled proudly, her arm going occasionally to touch his arm shyly. In response he took her hand, kissed it, made a comment that soon her belly would be as large and round as was that of Mistress Page. Everyone laughed and nodded benignly, Mary blushed again, Tiola pretended to be busy with her plate.

Mary was not yet sixteen. Teach was fifty.

A servant entered discreetly, spoke quietly into Nicholas Page’s ear. He excused himself, left the table, Elizabeth-Anne watching him go. She looked well, if somewhat large, and Tiola had been surprised that Teach had not made one comment beyond remarking that the lady’s child would be a son to be proud of – though was she certain she was not carrying an entire ship’s crew in there?

Several times Teach had attempted to draw Perdita into the conversation, but she had refused to meet his eye and had spoken barely a word. Tiola felt sorry for her, forced to endure company she had no interest in while her heart and mind were on a young man elsewhere. Tiola knew exactly how the girl felt. Her hand went to the acorn on the chain around her neck. It took great effort to force herself to not even think of contacting Jesamiah. Even then, even with this small thought of him, Teach regarded her across the table, his stare intense, suspicious, and she heard the faint rustling of the Malevolents, saw the shadows in one corner of the room grow denser, darker. She let go of Jesamiah’s acorn, busied her mind on selecting food from the platters in the centre of the table – and was relieved when the same servant who had summoned Nicholas Page entered and spoke quietly into her ear.

“It seems my healing skills are required,” she said. “Pray, do excuse me.”

She felt Teach’s gaze on her back as she left the room. She knew that if she turned around he would be smiling, playing the part of the charming gentleman. Not one of the others, not Governor Eden, John Ormond or his daughter, Mary, could see through his deception.

Thirty Three

“Mistress Oldstagh!” Nicholas Page’s voice. Striding across the hall, his boots rapping on the floor tiles, his expression creased into concern. “I apologise for disturbing your meal, but Royal Sunlight is in need of expert assistance.”

Tiola frowned, “I am sorry, I do not follow you?”

“My best brood mare. It looks like colic to me; sweating, restless, kicking at her belly, but our head groom is fifty miles away attending his sick mother and I have no idea how to deal with this. She has been bad a while, I think, those useless grooms noticed nothing untoward until half of an hour since. I wondered if you would assist me?” He twirled his hat in his hands, embarrassed. “Though if my asking offends you please say. I would not belittle your experience or capabilities, she is nothing more than a horse.”

Reassuring him Tiola touched his arm, “If I can I will help any creature in distress, human or horse. I will be needing linseed oil and plenty of light, if you would organise those I will fetch what else I require from my room.”

She touched his arm again and smiled. “And believe me, the interruption is most timely.”

Ten minutes later, her fancy gown changed for something old and practical, and a valise containing a few useful items in her hand, she ran down the back servants’ stairs. They led directly to the rear of the house and the stable yard, a quicker route than the main front stairs.

Halfway down she met a maid struggling upward with a basket of logs for the Master’s chamber. The girl looked dismayed, fearing she would have to trudge downward to allow the young woman to pass, but Tiola shook her head and flattened herself against the wall.

“Come girl, you are stick thin, there is plenty of room.”

With one flight to descend, Tiola heard a door open somewhere below, briefly caught the clack of voices and laughter before it shut again. The dining room. Had someone entered or exited?

The narrow hall at the bottom of the stairs was dark, lit by only one frugal lamp, but Tiola found her way to the kitchens with ease. The servants were a little startled to see her, but at her polite request eagerly put water to boil and provided her with a lantern to light her way.

Wasting no time with following the gravel pathway, she walked quickly and direct across the expanse of lawn, her boots scuffing the dew-wet grass, the hem of her gown soon heavy and sodden around her ankles. A stand of trees to the centre rustled in the night breeze; an owl called. She paused, head turning to one side, listening. Something was wrong.

Too late! Footsteps moving fast behind! An arm grabbing her around the waist, a hand clamping over her mouth.

“Hello wummun. I think thee and me need to talk.”

Teach!