Death of a Dyer (28 page)

“Very well,” he said in resignation, coming onto the porch and shutting the door behind him.

As they started down the road, Munch appeared from the shrubbery and trotted after them. He followed them into the cottage, where he collapsed in front of the hearth with a sigh. Rees sat down at the table by the window and, when Marsh remained standing, pointed to the bench across from him. Marsh sat down. He moved stiffly, and when Rees looked at him carefully he realized how much effort Marsh was expending to control his emotions.

Marsh caught his glance. “I don’t know how my history will help you find Nate’s killer,” he said.

“Perhaps,” Rees said. “Perhaps not.” He waited.

“As I told you, I was born into slavery in Mexico on a cochineal plantation. My master traveled regularly to other parts of the Spanish Empire; that’s how I knew about the chilla leaves from Peru. The native population uses them to make a green dye.”

“Then your master sold you to an indigo plantation in South Carolina?”

“Yes.” Marsh nodded. “When I was sixteen.” He hesitated and then added, “I ran away a few years later. Came north.”

“How soon after that did you meet Nate Bowditch?”

“Not long. I brought indigo to Providence. Also a bag of logwood shavings—”

“And Nate, once he learned of your specialized knowledge, hired you to work for him?”

“Yes.” Marsh smiled faintly. “He knew even more about dyestuffs than I did.”

Rees let the silence lengthen before speaking. “I want to know what you argued about with Nate.” Marsh was quiet for so long, Rees thought he would not answer. “It wasn’t only about Richard, was it? Or about dyeing?”

“No.” Marsh exhaled. “Partly. I couldn’t understand why he refused to encourage the boy’s happiness. But…” He ran down.

“Yes.”

“You don’t know what he was like. Nate was obsessed with finding the perfect dyes, cheaper and better than everything we already know. Now, I mean before he died, he focused on green. But, I promise you, when he solved that conundrum, it would be red. Or blue. He searched for dyes we could obtain from sources here, not imported fustic or logwood. He spent every day, every minute of every day, here in this cottage. He paid no attention to the farm, to his family, to—” He stopped short.

“To what?”

“To anything. So we argued.” He hesitated and then admitted, “I punched him. In the face.”

Rees thought of the bruise upon Nate’s cheek and nodded. “And then Richard arrived.”

“He didn’t kill his father.”

“How do you know? You left, didn’t you? That’s what you said.”

“I just know. He wouldn’t.”

“And you saw no one else?”

“No. Just the horse. As I told you.”

“And you went to your sister’s? In Portland?” When Marsh did not immediately respond, Rees fixed him with a fierce glare. “The truth, Marsh.”

“She’s not my sister, she’s my wife,” he suddenly burst out. Rees felt his mouth drop open. “Yes, I see your question. Why doesn’t she live here, with me? She wouldn’t come. My South Carolina master forced us to wed, to produce more slaves, you see.”

Rees saw. He would have run, too. “Children?”

“Three. None of mine, but I help her support them. It’s the least I can do,” he added, so softly Rees could barely hear him.

“Did you kill Nate, Marsh?”

“Of course not. I would never…” Emotion choked him. Rees waited for the other man to compose himself. Finally Marsh said, “I should return to my duties.”

“I want to speak briefly with Rachel,” Rees said, also rising to his feet. Marsh bobbed his head in acquiescence.

They walked silently up the slope, Munch at their heels. Both men passed through the kitchen, but as Marsh continued to the back stairs Rees paused. Only Mary Martha and Lydia were inside today, both washing dishes but without the frenzy of the previous week. “I’m looking for Rachel,” Rees said.

“In the dining room,” Mary Martha said. “The little one. The company left a bit of a mess.…”

Rees nodded his thanks and went up the stairs. As soon as he approached the family dining room he smelled stale smoke and whiskey. He peered through the door. Ash covered the table and the floor and dirty glasses littered every surface. Rachel, moving slowly with fatigue, was piling glasses and dishes into a basket. She looked up at him, seeing something in his eyes that forced her to step back.

“You haven’t told me everything,” Rees said. Rachel swallowed nervously. “Was Nate Augustus’s father?” Rachel opened her mouth to say yes but at the last moment could not speak the lie. Finally she lowered her eyes and shook her head. “Who was it?” Rees asked. No answer. “Rachel,” he said.

She choked back a sob. “This has nothing to do with the master’s death,” she said.

“We can’t know that,” Rees said gently. “Who, Rachel? No one can harm you now.”

“King Carleton.”

Rees stared at her in shock and then, as the news sank in, he knew it was true. Of course, King Carleton always took what he wanted. “Did Nate know?”

“Yes. I told him immediately. But it made no difference. He still treated Augustus like his own.” She paused and then added in a soft voice, “No one knew. Not even Master Carleton. He sold me before I began to show. I barely knew I was expecting myself. And everyone assumed the baby was Nate’s and he never told them different. He was a good man.”

“Yes,” Rees said. Unbelievably good to accept another man’s child as his own. Nate must have had a compelling reason. His mind whirling, Rees headed to his wagon in a daze.

*   *   *

By the time he reached Dugard, dark clouds were scudding across the sky and the first fat drops of rain had begun to fall. He didn’t think he would make it home before the storm hit in earnest. Anyway he didn’t want to go home. Only the silent Abby would be in the kitchen when Rees wanted to share his amazement and his new questions with Lydia.

He turned the wagon north, toward the Contented Rooster. The street out front was empty except for a few people running for shelter. He went down the drive and parked Bessie and the wagon under a tree. The wind was whipping the pewter water in Dugard Pond into whitecaps. Suddenly the skies opened and a deluge began. The wind blew the rain sideways, and leaves and other debris spun sluggishly down the street. Rees sprinted for the front door.

The coffeehouse was almost empty. A fire snapped on the hearth, a cozy counterpoint to the rain outside. Rees threw himself into a chair in the back corner near the fireplace.

Jack approached with a smile. “I heard a rumor.…”

Rees turned astonished eyes toward the other man. “Already?” But he’d just spoken to Rachel.

“Oh, Caroline wasted no time in spreading the news,” Jack said.

“Caroline? Wait, what?” Rees tried to pull his scattered thoughts together. “What does Caroline have to do with anything?”

“She claims you have your mistress at the farm,” Susannah said, scurrying across the floor with cups of coffee. A pitcher of cream and a dish of fat sugar chunks followed.

Jack pulled over a chair. “She says you have a woman living with you.”

Rees regarded Jack sourly. “I’m sure she did not describe Lydia so kindly.”

“Is that true?” asked Susannah.

“My sister wanted to move in,” he said, so furious, he spat out the words. “My housekeeper lives in my grandmother’s cottage. Augie—” He stopped short. Susannah offered him a small smile. “She can’t stay with me now, can she? She isn’t my mistress. She’s a…” He paused. Could Lydia still be considered a Shaker when she no longer lived in a Shaker community and had been expelled from it, in fact? “I told Caro I needed time to make arrangements.”

Both of Rees’s companions regarded him with varying degrees of interest. Then Susannah said, “I expect Caroline is desperate.”

Rees nodded. “I know he beats her,” he said. Under Susannah’s gaze, he felt the hot flush of shame spread over his body.

“When he loses at the gambling table, he takes it out on his family,” Jack replied with a humorless chuckle. “And he almost always loses. Where do you think your land and your livestock went?”

Rees squirmed. “That’s why she was at the farm,” he admitted in a low voice. “She wanted to bring the children and stay for a while.”

Susannah leaned toward Rees. “Your sister Phoebe and her husband moved to Rumford and your parents and grandparents are dead. Caroline is your younger sister and she and those kids have no one else.”

“I didn’t refuse her,” he said. “I just wanted some time to figure it out.…” Realizing his protest sounded uncomfortably like whining, he shut up.

Susannah sat back, her expression no less stern. “Have you spoken to James Carleton yet?”

“I drove out there and he was leaving. Then Richard shot me—”

“A little ashamed for the Hell you and Nate put James through as boys?” Susannah asked shrewdly.

Rees did not reply. James had been a bookish boy, preferring to settle down with his Latin schoolwork to tramping around outside. His quiet nature and solitary habits especially seemed to irritate Nate, who never let an opportunity to torture the boy pass. “Why did Nate bully James so much?” he asked now.

“You knew Nate better than anyone,” Jack replied. “You should know.” Rees shook his head.

“It’s just that, well, Elizabeth Carleton is at the center of this, isn’t she?” Susannah said, pursuing her own thoughts. “If Nate hadn’t forbidden the courtship, the two young people might already be married with a baby on the way. And Nate still alive.”

“It couldn’t be that simple,” Rees said.

“Well, no. But James and Nate were better than good friends. So why did Nate refuse to allow his son to wed James’s daughter? James might know. And he probably has other information—” She stopped so suddenly, Rees looked at her suspiciously.

“Women’s gossip,” Jack said, his voice laden with scorn.

“Please, Suze,” Rees said.

She sighed. “King Carleton had an eye for a beautiful woman,” she said.

“This is news?” Rees said, disappointed.

“Rumors,” Jack said.

“What about Hannah Bishop?’ Susannah asked, irritated. “And Leah McKinney?”

“They
claim
he fathered their children,” her husband argued. “We don’t know that’s true.”

“He sent the girls to school,” Susannah said. “That’s corroboration if I ever heard it.”

Rees said nothing as he pondered the discussion. Rachel had named King Carleton as Augustus’s father, and Rees believed her. Knowing there were others only confirmed her story. In fact, he now remembered Dolly waxing outraged about King Carleton’s larks all over town. He looked at Susannah. “What do you know?”

“I heard that King Carleton and his daughter-in-law—,” Susannah admitted as Jack lunged to his feet and stomped away.

Rees gaped at her. “Charlotte Carleton?” She nodded. “Does James know?” She shrugged. He moved his wounded arm experimentally. Although it ached a little, it itched now more than it hurt. “I’ll drive out right now.” He drained his cup.

“Will?” She hesitated, looking up at him. “You don’t seem surprised?”

“I heard this from someone else.”

“Rachel. It must be.” He said nothing, but Susannah nodded as though he’d admitted everything. “Of course. A lovely young girl in that household? It would have been like putting a lamb between a lion’s paws. What about Augie?”

“Please, don’t say anything to anyone,” Rees said, leaning across the table. She nodded. He looked at her carefully. Something about the set of her shoulders and tight mouth suggested another secret. “King Carleton went after you, too, didn’t he?”

“Me and everyone else. For six months, I was a prisoner in my father’s house, afraid to show my face before he was on to someone else. And I had a father and brothers to protect me. Do you know, King Carleton tried to bribe my father, threatening him and offering him money at the same time? I know my father was frightened. My mother wanted to send me to her sister’s in Boston. So, what chance did Rachel have? Fortunately for all of us, Mr. Carleton’s interest never lasted very long. When he fell ill in ’89, every woman in town breathed a sigh of relief.”

“No help from the constable? Or from the magistrates?”

She shook her head. “Most of them owed him money or were involved in business deals with him. I was fortunate in that as well. My father was of sober temperament with no vices, and he owned his own shop.”

Pity and anger curdled Rees’s belly and he pushed away his plate. What were the common working men and their daughters to do against the wealth and power of King Carleton?

“And Jack doesn’t know?”

“He wouldn’t believe me anyway,” Susannah said with a touch of bitterness.

“Mother?” Jack Jr. appeared at the kitchen door. Although opened for only a few seconds, the bitter stink of burning seeped into the common room. Uttering a cry of dismay, Susannah jumped to her feet and ran toward the back.

Rees looked through the window. Although the rain had diminished to a drizzle, it looked cold and wet outside. A drive to the Carleton estate would not be pleasant, but since Dugard was more than halfway it made sense to do it now—especially since tomorrow he must drive to New Winstead and find Cornelius Lattimore.

Rees dropped a penny onto the table and went outside to collect his horse and wagon from the yard. The storm had brought in cooler temperatures, and everything was dark with moisture, the air heavy with a thick mist that muffled all sounds. But the wind was whipping the clouds into rags, and as Rees started west on Water Street a ray of sun peeked through. He found himself thinking of secrets and how far people were willing to go to keep them hidden. But was making a bastard on a slave woman enough of a secret? Not for King Carleton. Unless … Rees suddenly wondered about the paternity of Elizabeth’s younger sisters.

And Elizabeth. If she were at the center as Susannah suggested, why, that gave James as many reasons to murder Nate as Richard had. James claimed he was in favor of the match, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d lied to Rees. Or maybe James was furiously insulted at Nate’s slight. Either way, he had as powerful a reason to murder Nate as Richard. Rees snapped the whip and Bessie broke into a canter.