Riverbreeze: Part 1 (12 page)

Just as Jamie had done, Robert gritted his
teeth, smiled politely and murmured his thanks. He also exchanged
warm greetings with the men from atop the horse. Until Jamie could
take Robin, he couldn’t dismount.

But it was Roger who was there to take the
boy after Robert untied the rope and handed him down. Being a
father of two little daughters and his wife heavily pregnant with
their third child, Roger had efficiently taken his collar and laid
it over his shoulder before settling Robin onto it. The boy
whimpered a little, and, just as Roger had expected, Robin rubbed
his face on that shoulder, leaving a slimy smear of drool and
snot.

“Sorry.” Robert said with an embarrassed
smile.

“Worry not.” Roger reassured him. “I’m used
to it.” And he efficiently wiped the boy’s face with a handkerchief
he pulled from his sleeve, then refolded the collar over and laid
it back on his shoulder, clean side up, all the while soothing the
boy with nonsensical murmurings.

“Ready, Rob?” Jamie asked. He had already
taken Robert’s stick from a loop attached to the saddle, the
walking stick that Jamie had carved for him after Robert’s initial
accident, and handed it to Roger, who took it without question.

The process of getting Robert off the horse
was more difficult than getting him on the horse because he would
have to swing his right leg over and land on it, which he couldn’t
do because it hurt too much. But as much as Robert hated doing this
in front of this crowd of people, he managed somehow to
successfully dismount. And he didn’t even fall on his arse!

* * *

Much to Robert’s relief, half the crowd,
mostly the men, left with Jamie and Walter as they led the two
horses to the stables. Leaning heavily on his stick, to the other
half Robert asked to be excused, explaining he needed to put his
son down to nap. They murmured their understanding and left Robert
and Roger alone.

Once they were out of earshot, Roger was the
first to speak, a huge grin on his face, his brown eyes twinkling.
“Almost as handsome as his father!” He imitated Eliza Williams in a
mock contralto. Then in his normal voice, he said, “By Jesus! You
need to stay away from that one!”

“Now you know why I’ve been avoiding social
events like this one.”

Robert stated.

“I understand completely, but I am so glad
you decided to come today. ‘Tis so good to see you, Rob.” Roger was
still holding Robin, nevertheless, he reached out with his free arm
to hug his friend.

The two men embraced warmly, although
awkwardly, little Robin getting squished in the process.

“I’m hugely glad to see you too, Rog.” Robert
said, with genuine affection. Roger had been a good friend for the
past three years, probably his best friend, other than his brother,
Jamie. He was several years older than Robert, married with two
children already, but it was their common backgrounds that had
given them a feeling of understanding and brotherly love, and
Robert couldn’t help but be naturally drawn to this friendly,
good-natured young man.

Roger was dressed in an immaculate black
velvet doublet with slashed sleeves; his snowy white shirt was full
with voluminous sleeves that ended in layers and layers of lace and
fluff. His breeches were black velvet also, decorated with ribbon
down each side seam and tied at the knee with ribbons of gold. Silk
stockings and pewter-buckled shoes completed the outfit. With his
thick, sable hair flowing to his shoulders and his pointy little
Van Dyke beard, he was the quintessential gentleman.

“What were you escaping from?” Robert asked,
with an amused smile. “Jamie and I saw you nearly fall out the back
door as we were riding up.”

“The heat and the smell…Phew!” Roger
exclaimed. “I daresay half of the male population of the colony is
in that house, and most of the fools are already soused and betting
their fortunes away on a single game of dice. Damned fools.” He
repeated, shaking his head. Both of them could hear the noise
coming from the open windows of the house, endless talking,
laughing, even some singing and everyone eating and drinking
profusely.

Robert dreaded having to meet that crowd. He
snorted. “And perfect gentlemen all of them.” He mocked.

“Ha!” Roger snorted as well, but smiled
nevertheless, causing creases to appear on either side of his mouth
like parenthesis. “Well, perhaps I should not be revealing this,
but at least they all paid their taxes this year and paid their
tithes to the minister.”

Then his voice lowered. “Let’s have a seat
here and let me hold the boy for a while longer. He certainly has
grown since the last time I saw him.” Robin was still asleep, his
thumb firmly planted in his little mouth. Roger continued, mild
censure in his voice, “You should have allowed Jamie to bring him
to church this past month, since you’ve developed a distaste for
that particular institution.”

“You know my reasons.” Robert answered with a
wry smile. “Eliza Williams and the like, remember? And I will not
burden Jamie with my son.” He said, climbing painfully up the two
steps onto the porch. Robert didn’t want to admit it, but he was
grateful to Roger for holding Robin. He could barely manage the
steps, his leg was that painful.

“Hurt your leg again?” Roger asked,
concerned, once Robert sat down heavily on the bench.

“’Tis merely a sprain.” Robert dismissed it,
hoping that was the truth. He stretched his bad leg straight out in
front of him and bent to try to massage the ankle through the
leather of his boot. It wasn’t doing much good.

“You know, Rob, you really should obtain some
servants of your own to do that work for you. Look at me…I barely
lift a finger at my plantation, other than to pick up my quill to
record my profits in the ledger books.”

Robert snorted. “You may be able to fool
someone else with that lie, but I know you, Roger. Your skin is as
brown as mine and you cannot stand to keep your hands out of the
dirt. You work as hard as I do and you love it, the same as
me.”

Roger laughed. “You’re right, of course. I do
love it, but that does not mean you have to do it all by yourself.
If you want your profits to increase, you will need servants.”

“Why should I spend my own money on
purchasing servants when I can just borrow Francis’s?” Robert
quipped.

Roger frowned at him censoriously, but said
nothing. The look said it all.

“All right.” Robert said, teasing Roger a
little. “Since you’re so jealous…”

“Hah!” Roger scoffed.

“…Did Jamie not tell you? I took on a servant
just a fortnight ago. He’s a young lad about sixteen years; he
hails from Itchington outside of Bristol and he’s been most
cooperative. Luckily he hasn’t given us any trouble yet, and I do
not believe he will.”

“He could be deceiving you.” Roger warned.
“You can never trust any of them. They always try to run away at
least once. Did you bring him with you?”

“No.” Robert said, annoyed at Roger. He
didn’t need Roger to tell him how to handle his servant. He knew
that several of the men and their families did travel with at least
one of their servants, either to keep them close by or to serve
them, but Robert spurned this idea. He didn’t need his servant’s
help away from his plantation. “No, I didn’t think it was
necessary. Besides, where would he run to? He’s not familiar with
the landscape yet and I doubt he would try to run away after only
being here for two weeks.”

“Well, I hope for your sake you’re right.
‘Tis such a nuisance to have to go look for them; it wastes so much
time and then, of course, you have to punish them. He does know
about the punishments, does he not?”

“I informed him when he first arrived, the
possibly of a whipping, a branding, and doubling his length of
service; and I reminded him again right before Jamie and I left. He
seemed sufficiently subdued. But enough about my servant…” He said,
tiring of that line of conversation. “How have you been, Roger?
Jamie has given me your regards, of course…”

Roger interrupted him. “You know, I wish you
wouldn’t isolate yourself so much, Rob. ‘Tis not good for you to
hide yourself away at your place and work yourself to death every
day of your life. You’re still young…”

Now Robert interrupted his friend. He knew
Roger meant well, but this was the kind of mothering he didn’t
want. “Please, Roger, I do not need another keeper. Tell me how
Nicole is and your two little ones. Where are they, by the
way?”

“All right, Rob.” Roger capitulated, “I’ll
leave you alone. As for Nicki and the children, they’re at home.”
He answered, adjusting the little boy on his shoulder. A strand of
Roger’s hair must have tickled Robin’s nose because quite
impolitely, he chose that moment to sneeze all over Roger’s
shoulder again. But Roger didn’t bat an eye. He just wiped the
lad’s face again with a clean corner of the handkerchief, refolded
it again and resettled the boy on his shoulder.

“You do that so well.” Robert observed with
an affectionate smile. “Nicole is lucky to have you.”

Roger just scoffed at Robert’s compliment.
“No, I am lucky to have her.” He stated emphatically. “You know she
is too far long to travel.”

“Can’t you leave the poor woman alone long
enough to give her a rest?” Robert teased.

“’Tis not only me!” Roger took offense. Then
with a satisfied smile, he said, “She’s a wild cat, she is.”

“And who ever said one could not find love
with his wife?” Robert asked wryly.

“I believe it was my father who told me when
I was the tender age of twelve that marriages were made for
increasing your holdings and for procreation and continuing the
family line, which must never be allowed to die out, heaven forbid;
and that mistresses were made for pleasure. Little did he know that
I would not be valuable enough to attract a suitably affluent
prospect.” Roger said derisively.

“Little did we know that any of us would be
here, whatever our circumstances.”

“True.” Roger said somberly. And then he gave
up that line of conversation, realizing that Robert had suffered
worse indignities and misfortunes than himself. “By the way, have
you met Thomas Brooke and his wife yet?”

“You know I haven’t. I’ve been hiding myself
away and working myself to death lately, remember?” Robert
quipped.

Roger had the grace to look contrite. “I do
apologize. Please forgive me. You know they have only just arrived
a few months ago. They’ve been staying with the Gilberts in
Jamestown. Their estate in England was overrun and ransacked by a
regiment of Cromwell’s army and they barely escaped with their
lives. They had to flee quickly and consequently lost everything.
Mistress Brooke is nearly mad with grief.” He said, shaking his
head sadly.

“That is truly a shame.” Robert murmured. For
just that moment Robert thought about Wesley and Brentwood Manor.
Was Wesley an ardent royalist and would they lose their ancestral
home? As much as Robert hated his older brother, he didn’t want the
estate to be lost. Queen Elizabeth had granted his grandfather that
estate after he had served her for many years as a member of her
Privy Council.

“I fear that will be the way of things for as
long as this troublesome business continues.” Roger predicted.

“Have you heard from any of your brothers or
sisters lately?” Robert knew that Roger’s oldest brother was a
supporter of King Charles and had inherited the family home when
Roger’s father had died when Roger was thirteen years old. Like
Robert, Roger was a younger son, the fourth and youngest of sons in
a family of four boys and four girls. His sisters had all made
excellent matches and were married to prominent noblemen, his
oldest brother held the ancestral title of Earl, and the other
brothers were well established, one as a physician, the other as a
career soldier. There had just been enough funds left to see to
Roger’s education and a final allowance which had paid for Roger’s
passage to Virginia, along with three indentured servants, one of
whom had become his wife. Roger had decided to take his chances in
this new world rather than settle for what was left for him, a life
among the clergy, (which definitely wasn’t for him), an
apprenticeship to a silversmith or an apothecary or some other
dreary occupation in some dreary little corner of London. No, Roger
had wanted to own his own land and make his own destiny. And he had
done well for himself and his wife, a woman who he loved and would
have never been able to marry in England.

“I received a letter from my brother, John,
two days ago. He wrote to tell me that William was wounded in the
battle at Exeter fighting with Prince Maurice’s troops. That was on
September the sixth. He could be dead now and I wouldn’t even know
it.” He said softly, staring off into the distance.

“I am sorry, Roger.” Robert squeezed Roger’s
forearm in sympathy.

“I shall probably never see any of them
again.”

This startled Robert, this sudden, unexpected
melancholy on Roger’s part. Roger had always been the optimistic,
cheerful one; the one who went through life looking on the bright
side, smiling, laughing, playing with his children wholeheartedly,
and loving his wife unashamedly.

But what could he say? It was probably true.
People died so unexpectedly and so suddenly. And very few people
made a return voyage to England. One day Robert would love to show
Robin the home of his birth, but he doubted that would ever happen.
He would even like to see it again himself, but definitely not
while Wesley was there. “But maybe you will one day.” He said
gently, just for something to say.

Roger smiled warmly at him. “You’re a good
friend, Rob.” And then he took a deep breath and said, “If you do
not mind, I think I shall go see those magnificent horses of your
brother’s.” Then he lowered his voice, as if revealing a great
secret. “You helped him purchase them, didn’t you?” He asked,
already suspecting the truth.