Riverbreeze: Part 1 (31 page)

“Mistress Chilcott is not here tonight, is
she?” Peter asked stiffly. He felt slightly humiliated that he
should have to approach this despicable man to ask for this
information, but there was no one else to ask, except for Jamie,
but Jamie was surrounded by every other mad man at this gathering.
Peter had secretly admired Abigail for several months now; she
never missed a church service and after services while everyone
visited and socialized, she was always polite, but quiet. She never
flirted with the men like some of the other harlots did and she was
always clean and well-groomed. She was a woman he could see himself
with, a woman who he believed shared his beliefs and views of the
world. Of course he didn’t approve of her living with the Bassett
brothers, but he could overlook that for now, knowing that she had
nowhere else to go. He had been looking forward to seeing her today
at this social event, believing she would be here, but he hadn’t
seen her all day. He had finally decided to humble himself and
approach one of the brothers.

Robert eyed Peter, noticing how he stood so
still and arrogant in his unadorned black coat and breeches, white
stockings and buckled shoes. There was a stark white falling band
around his neck and he held a tall, broad-brimmed black hat in his
hands; and Robert wondered if the man was one of those religious
fanatics—what did they call themselves? Puritans?—and if he was,
then what
the hell
was he doing here! And
why the hell was he asking after Abby? “No, she is not here.”
Robert answered just as stiffly. “She stayed home today. She hasn’t
been feeling very well since the death of Mistress Warren.”

“Abigail should not grieve so over that
unworthy woman.”

“And who are you to say what Abby should or
should not do…Master Burnett?” Robert asked through his teeth,
trying to hold on to his temper.

Peter stiffened his spine and lifted his chin
a little, all the better to look down his nose at Robert. “I am
just saying that Mistress Warren wasn’t a fit friend for Abigail.
The woman was…unholy.” Peter declared with conviction.

“Unholy!” Robert exclaimed, his anger
exploding. He stood up and leaned into Peter, speaking into his
face. “That woman was the kindest, most gentlest of souls, always
willing to give of herself and her healing abilities. She never
judged anybody, she never refused anybody, and you…” Here, Robert
jabbed his finger at Peter’s chest. “…should take a lesson from
her! Now, get away from me Pete, and you also better stay away from
Abby or I will personally stuff your holier than thou attitude
right up your skinny arse!”

“How dare you, sir!” Peter sputtered. He was
blinking rapidly, a reaction to the threat. “How dare you!”

“Oh, I dare because you are a sanctimonious
wretch!” Robert was seething.

“And you are a crude, foul-tongued devil
destined to burn in hell for all eternity. I hope you burn in hell,
son of Satan!” And with that last declaration, Peter Burnett turned
on his heel and stalked off.

Robert watched him go, breathing hard.
“Foul-tongued devil, son of Satan.” He muttered under his breath.
“He’s the devil.”

From the bench, Roger was shaking his head
and said gravely, “One of these days, man, you are going to get in
some serious, serious trouble.”

Robert let out a sigh, ran a hand over his
face and lowered himself back onto the bench. “He deserved it, the
bastard! If he ever goes near Abby I will personally…”

“What will you do, Rob?” Roger interrupted
him before Robert could finish. “Beat him up? Kill him? I’m telling
you, man, you need to control yourself. ‘Tis obvious you’ve been
away from polite society for too long.”

Robert let out another sigh. He knew Roger
was telling the truth. But people like Burnett, and Sparshott and
Harris just made him sick. And all he was doing was trying to
defend and protect his family. What was wrong about that?

But Roger was right. He sighed again. “You’re
right, Rog. I’ll try to be good.”

“Do not just try, be good. You’re getting
married tomorrow. Elizabeth needs a husband who will be there for
her, not a husband who spends half his life in the pillory, or
worse yet, dead from a sword through the heart.”

Robert turned sharply to Roger. “You know
about that?”

“Everybody knows. Sparshott has gleefully
spread the word.”

“Damn.” Robert hung his head in his
hands.

Roger patted his back companionably. “Just
remember to watch his face when you’re fighting him. He has a
strange tic at the corner of his eye and just before he thrusts it
tends to twitch, almost as if he’s winking at you. I’m sure he does
not even know he’s doing it.”

Robert peered at Roger. “And how do you know
he does it?”

“By watching closely. I’ve watched him fight
many times. He is very good.”

“I know.” Robert groaned, sounding defeated
already. “But thank you for the advice and the tip. ‘Twill
help.”

“I hope so.” Roger said. “Listen, I have to
go…I’m really sorry, Rob. I hate to miss the big day tomorrow, but
I have to be home for Nikki.” Roger stood up. While he rearranged
the pouches to hang more comfortably on his body, Robert stood
also, using his stick to push himself up.

“Of course you have to be with her.” Robert
said. They hugged briefly and when they parted, Robert said,
“You’re not traveling alone, are you?”

“No, Lawson Gibbon and Bill Hamilton are
going with me and then they’re coming back. They’re waiting for me
at the dock now.” Roger said, retrieving his gun from the bench. He
checked it over, a natural habit, then secured it through his
belt.

“Good, because I’d hate for a savage or a
wild beast to attack you on your way home.” Robert said.

“But all this is still no protection from an
arrow.” Roger said, running his hands over his front, encompassing
the buff coat, powder, shot and the pistol.

“Just keep your eyes and your ears open.”

“Always.” Roger said with a warm smile. Then
with genuine affection, he said, “I wish you the best, man, you and
Jamie. Say good bye to him for me, will you?”

“Sure, Rog.”

And then Roger cracked a grin. “And be
careful you take the correct wife to bed with you. You know how
embarrassing it would be to wake up beside the wrong girl!”

“Go home, Roger.” Robert said, but he was
smiling also. “Go home to your wife and I will see you again soon.
Good night, my friend.”

“God be with you, Rob.”

And Robert stood for a moment, watching his
friend stride down the path. Roger turned once, waved, then
continued on his way. After awhile he was just a shadow fading into
the night, and when he was no longer visible, Robert sighed and
turned to take another look at the loud and disorderly crowd of
men. Did he want to join them? Did he want to stand by his brother
and get caught up in the madness? Did he want to drink some more
whiskey or Francis’ special peach brandy to forget who he was for
the moment and what had happened this day and what would happen
tomorrow?

Just then, Jamie turned and looked at him.
Jamie’s face was flushed with drink and good humor, his hair hung
in his face, his doublet had been thrown off and forgotten
somewhere. He waved enthusiastically for Robert to join him,
smiling and laughing. And Robert thought, why not? Why not join him
for one drink and one round? So before he could talk himself out of
it, he started to limp towards the men. Jamie came running to meet
him; and they smiled at each other, and when they reached the line
of men, they were welcomed into the middle of it, a flask was
offered to Robert and he took it without hesitation, drinking
deeply. It burned all the way down his throat, but it was all
right; it was all right just this once, and he took another
mouthful and another, letting the liquor warm him and start a nice
little buzz in his head. Then Jamie was right there next to him
giving him his loaded pistol, and he hefted it in his hand and when
Phillip shouted the words, “Ready, Steady..” Robert joined all the
other men in raising their pistols in unison and at the word
“Fire!” They all shot their guns into the air. Phillip, Jamie and
the gang all whooped and hollered and laughed and drank some more
as the powder and shot was handed around for the next round, but
Robert declined this time. This wasn’t helping him to forget, and
he wasn’t having the same fun as Jamie was, so he gave the pistol
back to his brother with a word of apology, thanked the man for the
drink and made his way back to the house, his heart heavy, his
thoughts focused on finding his son.

Chapter Ten: One kiss; two kiss

It was an hour later and the house was
finally quiet. Elizabeth had not been sad when the majority of the
gossiping women and all their children had left with Maureen to
spend the night at her house. She was now looking in on Mistress
Fossett who was nursing Robin in the darkened master bedchamber. As
she supported her weary body against the doorjamb, she marveled
once again at Sally’s stamina. While everyone else was socializing
and feasting after the funeral, Sally was up here tending to her
duties. The fire in the fireplace had been banked and allowed to
die out. The room had been aired out, but now the window and
shutters were closed once again against the chill of the night. The
big oak bedstead looked stark and naked without its mattress and
bedclothes. All the soiled linens had been stripped off and taken
away. They would be washed come laundry day, boiled in water and
lye soap. The trundle bed had been pulled out from underneath the
frame of the large bed and dressed in clean linens in readiness for
the little boy and his father and his uncle who would be sleeping
in it tonight. Sally had been very busy indeed.

Elizabeth let out a sigh and rubbed her tired
eyes. She stifled a yawn and wondered where Robert was. She hoped
he wouldn’t be too late; she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Robin
without supervision and she and Evelyn still had to fetch the dogs
from Walter who had been keeping them in the servants’
quarters.

All she really wanted to do was lie down on
that trundle bed, close the door and shut her eyes.

But that would have to wait. Her gaze went to
Mistress Fossett again and Elizabeth envied her motherhood. She
knew Lynette Fossett was a young woman in her mid twenties with
three children, two boys about four and five and the youngest, a
little girl, six months. She hadn’t met Lynette’s husband, but
prayed the man was a pillar of goodness and virtue. Lynette was the
sweetest person Elizabeth had ever met and it would be too cruel a
thought if the husband turned out to be an ogre.

And then just when Elizabeth thought she
might fall asleep where she stood, she heard a slow, rhythmic
thumping on the stairs. He wasn’t making any effort at all to quiet
each thud of his stick or the heavy tread of his steps, and he was
certainly taking his time.

Dieu merci
! She
thought. She turned and listened, waiting for him to climb the
stairs. “Hurry up!” she whispered to herself when he seemed to take
forever. And then she saw him at the last step dragging himself up
into the hallway, looking positively beat. She felt such an
overwhelming pang of sympathy for him that instead of scolding him
for leaving Robin with her all this time, she hurried to him and
with gentleness in her voice said, “You look awful.” She raised her
hand to touch his face, but decided against it. The bruises on the
one side of his face were nearly every shade of purple, black and
blue.

He let out a tired laugh. “I feel awful.” He
said. “Where is Robin?”

“In Uncle Francis’ bedchamber. Mistress
Fossett is nursing him.” She said in a voice just above a whisper.
“Come look.” She added, moving to his side to put her arm around
his waist.

He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised by
her action, but her loving smile was all he needed to prompt him to
place his arm around her shoulder.

They slowly made their way down the short
hallway to the master bedchamber. Robert even allowed himself to
lean on her a little. “So, the room as been cleaned then.”

“Oh yes. Poor Sally has taken care of
everything. She’s also made up the trundle bed for Robin and you
and Jamie.”

Robert chuckled a little. “Well, ‘tis been
awhile but it won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed. Who will
you be sharing with?”

Elizabeth made a little moue with her mouth.
“Alicia Warradine and Jane Abdey.”

Robert burst out laughing.

“Shh…” She shushed him, frowning at him.

Lowering his voice, he said, “I am so sorry,
Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. But those girls are so
jealous of you and Evelyn, who knows what mischief they could
make.” He paused a moment, an idea coming to him. “Do you know if
all the ink in the house has been locked up or if all the calomel
has been hidden away?”