Riverbreeze: Part 1 (16 page)

That was probably what the two men were
talking about. And thinking about Nicole and Jane prompted Robert
to wonder where the women were, the wives and daughters and the
very few single women, whether widowed or innocent. And where were
the guests of honor, his father’s nieces? With the women, most
likely, probably in the drawing room. He noticed that the men were
so loud he couldn’t hear a sound from across the hall. Just as
well, at least for now he wouldn’t have to put up with their
smothering murmurs and coos of sympathy and concern.

But he reminded himself that he still had to
meet the twins and that he mustn’t forget what Maureen had told him
about the color of their gowns.
Elizabeth, blue,
Evelyn
,
green, Elizabeth, small mole on her
neck
. He had related this information to Jamie as well, so
he would also be able to tell them apart.

And just as Roger had mentioned earlier, the
room stank of stale sweat and roasted meats, onions and turnips.
And it was stifling in the room despite the open windows letting in
the late October breeze.

The brothers suffered through loud greetings,
bone-crushing handshakes, pounding slaps on their backs, quick hard
embraces and kisses to their cheeks. Robert was congratulated on
his swollen cheek and black eye after he answered their questions
just enough to satisfy them, and then pewter cups were pressed into
their hands just as John Ewens shouted, “To the Bassett brothers
and their fine horses!”

“To the brothers!” The men repeated, their
cups held high.

“Drink up, lads. You have some catching up
t’do.” Edward Sparshott slurred as he filled his cup from a dark
green glass wine bottle. Sparshott was a middle-aged gentleman, but
still fit and energetic. He was a planter, but also a surveyor of
the highways. He was a boisterous fellow, arrogant and proud. But
now his hazel eyes were bloodshot, his graying lovelock hung in his
face and his shirt and doublet were untied and gaped at his neck,
but no one cared. This was a time for celebrating.

An answering roar went up and everyone drank
deeply, smacking their lips and sighing appreciatively
afterwards.

Both boys took their drinks unawares. And
instantly choked, sputtered and gasped, the raw liquor burning all
the way down their throats. The men guffawed at their reactions.
The Yeardley brothers came up from behind them and pounded them on
their backs.

“Jesus! What is this?” Robert managed to
gasp, looking into the cup as if the liquid might turn into a snake
and bite him. He thought they were all drinking wine from the look
of the bottle in Sparshott’s hand.

“’Tis ambrosia on the tongue.” Argoll
commented, sighing. He then emptied his cup in one swallow.

“Compliments of Sir Sparshott here.” John
Ewens said approvingly. He was also similarly disheveled as
Sparshott and half the gentlemen in the room. Robert fit right in
with his torn and blood-spattered shirt.

“I made it, boys.” Sparshott said proudly.
“Corn whiskey, that is what it is. Unlike anything in England or
Scotland. A little young yet, but with some aging it will be superb
one day.”

“Here! Here!” Several shouted out.

“More, more!” Others shouted, laughing
uproariously.

And while another bottle was passed around,
Robert attempted another sip. It certainly was potent. It stung the
cut on his lip but this time he drank more cautiously and managed
to get it down without choking. But he still felt it all the way
down his throat and into his stomach where it landed like a little
ball of fire. “Christ!” He swore again, forgetting completely that
there was a minister in the house that could be witness to his
profaning the name of God.

But Samuel Mathews hadn’t forgotten. He had
maneuvered his way through the crowd to stand beside Robert with
the original intention of saying hello. The Yeardley brothers
melted back into the crowd, leaving room for their adversaries.
“Watch your tongue, lad.” Mathews said quietly, but firmly. He put
his arm around Robert’s shoulders and gave him a little shake as if
Robert were still a child. “Your father would be most displeased
with you.”

“And you do not want to risk Harrison hauling
you down to the church and putting you in the pillory.” That was
from George Menefie who had also moved next to Robert. But despite
his words there was also the slightest teasing glint to his eyes
and the smallest of smiles on his lips.

Robert couldn’t help but smile in return.
Thank God Menefie was only teasing him. It was true that not only
could he be hauled down to the church and put in the pillory but he
could also get fifteen stripes across his bare back. But who was
here to stop him from swearing and who was here to stop them all
from drinking and gambling and raising hell? The Governor wasn’t
here and even if he was, Robert didn’t think that would make much
of a difference.

Governor Berkeley and the House of Burgesses
had already tried to enact statutes to restore English standards of
rectitude and behavior without success. With everyone so far
removed from everyone else, it was almost impossible to monitor
people’s behaviors.

Robert gladly shook Menefie’s hand when
Menefie offered it. Conversationally Menefie said, “How are those
apples? And the trees?”

“Delicious, sir, and the trees are all
planted and waiting for spring.” Robert responded politely.
Sometimes he still felt like a child among these men. This was one
of those times.

Menefie turned to Mathews to explain. “Robert
transplanted a dozen of my youngest apple trees onto his property
two weeks ago.” Then he turned back to Robert. “Remember, it will
be years before you get a decent amount of fruit.”

“Yes, sir, so if it is agreeable I would like
to continue to barter for them.” Robert said formally.

“Of course, of course.” Menefie smiled
amiably. “But this is not the time or the place for business, son.”
Menefie waved his hand to get the attention of Sparshott. “More
drink for the lads!” He shouted.

Sparshott instantly came forward, another
bottle in his hand, a huge smile on his face. He was more than
willing to share his bounty with all. Once the men developed a
taste for it, they would want more and more, and soon he would have
a thriving business supplying everyone with his famous corn
whiskey.

But Jamie wasn’t so inclined to try the
newly-distilled liquor again. It was just a little too strong for
him. Robert saw the sick look on his face, but Robert also knew
that it would be considered an insult if Jamie refused a second
drink. He knew Jamie would have to be very careful.

“Sir Sparshott, my compliments.” Jamie said
politely, nodding his head respectfully. “But if you do not mind,
sir, I’ll stick with beer myself.”

Sparshott just laughed and clasped Jamie’s
shoulder and shook him roughly but affectionately, which nearly
knocked him over, despite the fact that Jamie was at least four
inches taller than the older man. The man was a bear. “Can’t handle
it, huh, boy? That’s quite all right. You’re just a pup yet.”

Robert hid his smile in his cup. He knew
Jamie would be burning with embarrassment.

“Sally!” The man roared without warning and
Jamie jumped. Robert’s smile disappeared at the sound of
Sparshott’s voice. He didn’t like it when crude men ordered other
people’s servants around.

Sally came rushing in, looking haggard. She
had been told, unbeknownst to Robert, to mind the guests and get
them anything they wanted, but God, they were running her
ragged.

“Yes, sir.” She panted, her face flushed. She
was nearing the end of her term and was looking forward to the day
when she could marry Anthony Browne and run a household of her own.
Robert knew she was eagerly counting down her last six months.

“Get this young laddie a beer!” Sparshott
bellowed.

“Sally, you do not have to.” Jamie said
quickly, seeing how tired she was. He had two good legs and he had
never asked a servant to do what he couldn’t do himself. “I’ll get
it myself.”

“No, you will not!” Sparshott declared,
roughly grabbing Jamie’s arm, effectively stopping Jamie in his
tracks when he had started to move away.

Robert automatically stepped in, while the
rest of the men stilled. Robert wanted to stop this before it went
any further. And he never thought for a moment that Jamie might not
want him to interfere. He had always cared for his younger brother
and he always would. He had also noticed how worn out Sally looked
and while she had served both the boys while they had been
occupants of this house, they had never taken advantage of her.
Robert wasn’t going to let this boor do it either.

Robert had never liked Sparshott and didn’t
like the way he was treating either Sally or Jamie. He wasn’t going
to allow the fact that Sparshott was his elder and had come to the
colony as a gentleman of means to stop him from standing up for his
brother and for Sally. Sparshott was also a second son and Robert
knew all about second sons; bitter and resentful of a system that
denied them the right to inherit the family title and the family
estates. Wasn’t Robert a second son himself? There were many second
sons in Virginia trying to recreate their own English estate; isn’t
that what he was doing? But some of them took it further than just
obtaining land and building a new family dynasty; some of them,
like Sparshott, tried to throw their weight around, tried to use
their family name to push other people around. But at this
particular time in a land where hard work and favorable weather
were more important than someone’s background, those old class
distinctions with all their privileges were diminishing.

“Yes, he will.” Robert said quietly, almost
friendly-like, but the message was clear. He didn’t have the same
care in trying not to insult the man. Purposefully he laid his hand
on Sparshott’s where it gripped Jamie’s arm. “Now…” He continued,
his voice still quiet, but firm. “…you will let go of my brother
and you will allow him to get his own beer if he so desires. And
you will tell Sally she is not needed here.”

The room went perfectly quiet for a moment
while Sparshott’s and Robert’s eyes met. There was a definite
challenge on both their parts, but one that would not be called
upon. Robert could feel Sparshott’s wrath like a burn on his flesh.
He knew Sparshott probably would have liked to blacken his other
eye right about now. He had challenged the man in front of the
entire population of James City County. Oh well, he would probably
never get another drink of that fine corn whiskey ever again!

So it was quite surprising when Sparshott
relented after those first few minutes of tension. In the blink of
an eye his whole attitude changed. Sparshott may have been a boor,
but he was not stupid, and he knew Francis Tyler’s home was not the
place to put this young upstart in
his
place. “All right, all right, Bassett.” He said easily enough,
removing his hand from Jamie’s arm and holding it up in front of
his body, fingers spread slightly as if in surrender. “No need to
be hostile. Jamie, my lad…” He addressed Jamie with a polite nod.
“…you are free to get your beer if you like, and Sally…” He turned
to make a small bow to the servant who was still hovering in the
doorway. “You are free to return to the kitchen. Does that meet
your satisfaction…
boy
?”

“Yes.” Robert said through gritted teeth. He
didn’t like the way Sparshott had said ‘boy’ but he would let it
end there. “Thank you, sir.” Robert responded grudgingly.

“At your service, sir.” Sparshott responded
evenly.

Robert didn’t miss the hint of mockery and
resentment in Sparshott’s tone, but he chose to ignore it. He
turned to the relaxing crowd. Now that the small altercation was
over the men could return to their festivities. Robert knew that at
other times the men would have enjoyed a good fist fight or a bit
of swordplay. And that might still happen between these two; one
could always lay a wager on it.

Robert decided this was a good time to remove
himself from the situation, and he hadn’t even greeted the women
yet. As much as he dreaded facing half of them, it could not be
avoided. He also wanted to meet with Thomas Warren before the man
departed. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I must pay my respects
to the ladies. Please continue to enjoy yourselves for as long as
you like.

As he turned to leave, Menefie grabbed his
arm, stopping him, and in a low voice said, “Be careful, Robert. He
won’t forget this.”

“And he’ll want satisfaction.” This from
Mathews.

“I shall be careful.” Robert said,
acknowledging their concern with a nod.

As Robert made his way through the rest of
the crowd, limping and leaning heavily upon his stick, he was
surprised and quite pleased at the support he received from the
majority of the men. As he walked by, hands reached out to squeeze
his shoulder or pat his back or touch his arm, and soft warning
words were whispered into his ear. “Watch you back, Bassett.” “Be
careful, Robert.” “Take heed, son.” He acknowledged them all with a
grave smile, polite nods and murmured thanks.

But before he went through the doorway, he
caught Warren’s eye and nodded to him. Warren guessed correctly
that Robert had something to say to him and thoughtfully moved to
stand by Robert, so Robert wouldn’t have to come to him.

“I’ve just recently heard about your sister,
Tom. I’m so very sorry. I had great respect for her.” Robert said
sincerely.

“I know you did, Rob, and I’m grateful. Thank
you for your kind words.” Warren responded. He was still grieving
for his sister and he looked tired and pale despite his dark
complexion. Like his sister, he also had glossy black hair and
soulful brown eyes and for a passing moment Robert wondered who
their ancestors might have been.