The Mistress of Tall Acre (35 page)

Meanwhile Mrs. Lamont was laid low with gout and Sophie had assumed her duties, supervising Florie and the other two housemaids and kitchen staff. But at the moment, none of this was on her mind. She touched Seamus’s pipe with its familiar thistle Pollock, the tobacco scent pungent and pleasant. Being in his study, among his own beloved things, assuaged her need of him somewhat.

A sudden movement sent her gaze to the door. Cosima stood looking at her, a fan in hand. Composed of peacock feathers, it fluttered artfully amidst the dark decor.

Sophie smiled. “How goes it, the dancing?”

“The children have nearly mastered the country dances, but you and Seamus are needed to step the minuet and show them how it’s done.”

“I’ll be glad to.” Opening a ledger, Sophie quickly added to their order for Biddle in Philadelphia.
Loaf sugar. Best Hyson tea. One
small satin Capuchin hat.
“But you’ll be hard-pressed to find Seamus as he’s still in . . .”

She looked up, voice fading. Cosima was no longer in the doorway. Seamus was. Dressed for dinner and looking like he’d never left the house.

“My sister’s powers of persuasion know no bounds. Would you do me the honor of a dance, Sophie?”

She smiled her delight as he extended his good hand. Something about him seemed markedly different. He, who’d helped rout Burgoyne at Saratoga and laid siege to Cornwallis at Yorktown, looked touchingly unsure of her.

“Of course I’ll dance with you, Seamus.”

They crossed the foyer and entered the ballroom where the children were finishing a country dance. Lily Cate hurried across the floor to greet them, giggling all the way.

“Papa, are you going to dance the minuet with Mama?”

“Aye. And then I’m going to dance with you.” He looked to the fiddler and dancing master as they took their places, the children watching from the edge of the floor. The music began, and Seamus gave a bow to Sophie’s curtsey. One dance turned into two, three . . . six. Night set in and more candles were lit.

Sophie had heard that George Washington, despite his great height and heft, was a graceful dancer. Seamus was the same. He never missed a step, though she nearly lost her footing trying to keep her mind on the maneuvering. Flushed and slightly winded, they danced a final, joyous reel, which led them down the length of the lovely room.

Sophie looked up without thought to the marble hearth where a fire glowed. Something seemed amiss. Out of place.

The portrait of Anne had come down.

26

K
eys jingling as she walked, Sophie opened the door of the spinning house the next morning, the sound of angry voices fading as she stepped into the room. Myrtilla and Molly, the Irish indenture, faced off, bickering yet again. Dismayed, Sophie mentally raced through her options. Perhaps Molly should be sent into the fields. Or returned to Ireland, if Seamus had his way.

“Molly, you’re needed in the dairy.” Exasperation rising, Sophie forced a calm she wasn’t feeling. “Myrtilla, I’d like to speak with you next door.”

Molly sauntered past, head high, while Myrtilla followed Sophie outside. A sudden burst of girlish laughter lightened the mood of the moment. Jenny and Lily Cate were playing French hoops on the side lawn, brandishing their wands as gracefully as they could as they tried to catch the flying circles. Sophie waved as she went by, wishing she could join them.

In the privacy of the schoolhouse, its walls still smelling of fresh milk paint, Sophie faced Myrtilla. “What are you and Molly quarreling about today?”

Myrtilla stood, dark arms akimbo. “You only have to look at Molly to quarrel with her.”

“If it keeps happening, I’ll have to pass the matter to the general, and I’d rather not.”

Sophie saw the alarm in her eyes, sensed her bone-deep loyalty to Tall Acre. While she might bear Sophie a grudge regarding her mother, Myrtilla revered Seamus.

“Don’t go troublin’ the general none, Mistress Ogilvy.”

“The general put you in charge of the spinning house, and I don’t want that to change. But you and Molly must work in peace. What can be done to bring that about?”

Myrtilla bit her lip. “Let Molly spin half a day and do kitchen work the rest. She don’t take to nothin’ long, though she spins fine once she’s settled.”

“The next time Molly has an outburst, come straight to me and I’ll move her. Do your best not to provoke her in the meantime.”

Myrtilla nodded, eyes roaming the room. “When you goin’ to start your schoolin’?”

When, indeed. Would she ever find the time? “As soon as our guest leaves and Lily Cate returns from Williamsburg.”

“Williamsburg?” Wariness flooded Myrtilla’s gaze, making Sophie regret the slip.

“Lily Cate doesn’t know she’s to go yet. The general wants it kept quiet.”

“Why Williamsburg?”

“Lily Cate’s kin want to see her.”

Opposition curled Myrtilla’s lip. “Mistress Anne’s, I suppose.”

Sophie wouldn’t say they’d had little choice in the matter. At the same time, what could a visit hurt? “She’ll return to Tall Acre in a week.” Sophie forged ahead, a new plan forming. If Seamus was willing . . . “Would you consider letting Jenny go to Williamsburg with Lily Cate?”

Her hopeful question was nearly snuffed by Myrtilla’s dark look. Keeping in mind Myrtilla was now a free woman, Sophie waited, sure of a refusal.

Myrtilla ran dark fingers over an old slate. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Sophie nearly sighed. Whatever grievance Myrtilla had about the past seemed to have spilled over to the present. Not even Jenny’s friendship with Lily Cate had turned her temper.

Stepping onto the sunny stoop just beyond the open door, Myrtilla gave her a last dark look. “If the general wants Jenny to go, she’ll go.”

Sophie felt a small, surprising victory. “I’ll speak with him about it then.”

Mid-afternoon, Sophie hurried to the house, the slant of the sun telling her she was late for tea. Cosima, for all her free-spiritedness, operated with a soldier’s punctuality. Tea was at four o’clock and not a minute later.

She and Lily Cate were gathered round a table in the small parlor, nibbling and chatting. The fragrance of Hyson was strong and pleasant, Sophie’s empty chair pulled out invitingly.

“We’d all but given up,” Cosima told her, pouring her a steaming cup. “Between you and Seamus working night and day, Tall Acre will return to its former glory in no time.”

Across the table Lily Cate smiled, her doll seated between them. “I saw you talking with Papa in the garden this morning.”

Sophie reached for the sugar. “We were trying to decide what to plant. The gardener had questions . . .”

“Just remember, all work and no play make the master and mistress dull indeed.” Cosima gestured to the pianoforte. “Though Seamus tells me you’re a fine musician, I haven’t heard a note in the time I’ve been here so will have to take his word for it.”

Sophie digested that without reply. Cosima rarely made a frivolous comment; there was always a pithy message beneath. Before Sophie could divert her, Lily Cate took up the charge.

“Aunt Cosima says I’m in need of a baby brother and sister—or a parrot.”

Cosima winked. “And I’m so hoping it won’t be a parrot.” As the bird preened in its corner cage, Cosima shot Sophie an apologetic glance. “All I meant is that I hope you and Seamus make up for mine and Philip’s lack.”

Sophie didn’t miss the sudden wistfulness in Cosima’s eyes. Playing along, she looked at Lily Cate. “So what would you like most? A baby brother or a sister?”

“Both!”

“Best talk to your father about that,” Cosima whispered conspiratorially.

Did Cosima know of their separate rooms? Separate lives? Sophie sampled the gingerbread made rich with orange curd, the gnawing inside her having little to do with hunger. “You and Philip will have to come down for the christening . . . act as godparents.”

Cosima’s brows slanted inquiringly as Lily Cate switched subjects. “Aunt Cosima says I must visit her in Philadelphia.”

Nodding, Cosima brushed a crumb from her bodice. “I was asking about her former governess. If you cannot secure another, there’s a fine day school in the city founded by Quakers.”

Curious, Sophie looked again at Lily Cate. “Would you like to go away to school?”

Her head shook so vigorously her curls wobbled. “I would miss you and Papa—and Sassy.”

Sophie rued the way her eyes darkened like Seamus’s did when considering something dire. How would they break the news to her about the coming week in Williamsburg? “Perhaps when you’re more grown up you can attend, like I did at Mrs. Hallam’s.”

“A lovely idea. As for me, I shall be leaving all too soon,” Cosima said with a dramatic sigh. “Will you miss me—and Shrub?”

Lily Cate giggled again, eyes on the pet bird, her wary mood fading. “Yes, though Papa said he won’t miss Shrub at all.”

“Well!” Cosima said in mock offense. “I shall leave Shrub with your uncle Philip next time. Or talk your father into having better manners.”

The parrot squawked, and the three of them dissolved in unladylike laughter.

The next evening ushered in the bittersweet. For the time being, Seamus felt at peace. Blessed. Able to keep the world out. Cosima had left for Philadelphia that morning, and the house was tranquil. Tomorrow seemed years away. Then the clock struck nine, reminding him that time could be a tyrant.

As if sensing the moment had come, Sophie gave him a pensive smile, and he reached for Lily Cate, taking her on his knee. Looking up at him, she smiled and touched his bristled cheek. His heart turned over. She’d made such strides in accepting him. Would he now see it all undone?

“Tomorrow we’re going to Williamsburg to see your aunt and uncle.” He spoke slowly, voice emptied of emotion, gauging her reaction. “They want you to stay with them for a few days.”

There was a surprised pause. She sat looking up at him like he’d done her some injury. “Without you and Mama?”

“We’ll be back to bring you home in a week.”

She leaned into him, her fingers picking at his coat buttons. “Promise?”

His chest went cold. She felt so small, the separation so large. “Aye, I promise.”

“Will you come in the night like last time?”

So she hadn’t forgotten. “Not in the night.” His fury with the Fitzhughs rose up and nearly choked out his reply. “Early in the day. Mayhap at first light.”

Sophie spoke, a smile in her voice. “Jenny will be with you.”

“Jenny?” She looked up, still bewildered. “How many days?”

Sophie held up seven fingers. “Once you return, we’ll start school. Won’t that be a delight? All those books you’ve been wanting to read . . .”

Seamus didn’t miss the emotion in Sophie’s words. He shouldn’t have confessed his dread of Lily Cate leaving. In the hours since, his turmoil had quickened, overtaking him like an enemy he couldn’t shake off. Could Sophie sense that?

Lily Cate yawned, and Sophie held out a hand. “For now ’tis time for a bedtime story.”

Turning toward him again, she reached up, cradling his chin in her fingers. “Goodnight, Papa.”

The brush of her lips was warm. Heartrending. He fought the urge to hold her too long, too possessively. He released her reluctantly, watching as Sophie led her away in what had become a touching nighttime ritual. He tried not to dwell on another separation, both tonight and in the days to come.