The Solitary Envoy (6 page)

“I could ask no more of anyone, most especially of you, my dear.” Forrest bowed his gratitude to his wife. He then said to Erica, “You will please thank Fran
ois for his demonstration and say he will be well recompensed for this display of skill.”

“Yes, Father.”

Erica was glad that her parents left swiftly then. For she would not have wished to have her mother see her collapse as she did upon a sack of peppercorns and accept a cloth from Fran
ois to wipe the perspiration from her brow.

Chapter 4

Erica sat in the carriage next to her mother. Fifteen days had passed since her birthday, but she did not count from that happy event. Rather, it was two weeks since the incident in the warehouse. Already Father had removed the coffee roasters, installed a street-front window, and stocked his new tobacco shop. Or rather, Erica had supervised most of this under his instruction. Only her mother did not share in the general excitement surrounding the new venture. In fact, things had been quite frosty about the house since that morning in the warehouse. And there seemed to be nothing Erica could do about it.

This afternoon’s excursion was a perfect example. The family had gathered for their midday meal, as always. When her mother announced that she was attending a tea given by Senator Burrell’s wife, Erica’s father had not responded at all. He had lost much of his joviality since returning from his northern journeys. He spent most of his time locked inside a preoccupied air, seeing and hearing nothing that went on about him.

When he did not respond, Mildred demanded, “I do so wish you would attend me.”

Forrest shook himself awake. “Forgive me, my dear. My thoughts were wandering.”

“You have not heard a word I have spoken!”

“Did we not have that splendid discussion regarding Reggie’s further tuitions this very morning?”

“That was the day before yesterday.” She set down her napkin. “Really, Forrest, is what I have to say so insignificant you do not need to listen to me any longer?”

“Not at all, my dear. Not in the slightest. It is just, well …” He fumbled with his pocket watch, then rose from his chair. “You must forgive me. I have pressing matters to attend to.”

“You do nothing but sit upstairs in your office and stare at the wall. Look at your plate; you haven’t touched a thing!”

“I fear I have no appetite.” He bowed to the table but seemed to see no one. “Please excuse me.”

In the ensuing silence, Erica quietly offered, “I would love to attend the tea with you, Mother.”

She could see that her mother was tempted to refuse. But when she spoke, it was to say, “I suppose you might wear the blue frock.”

Erica started to say that what she had on was perfectly adequate for an afternoon gathering, but she swallowed her protest. “I’ll just go change, then.”

“You had best hurry. I have already asked for the carriage to be brought around.”

When Erica left the room, her mother was still watching the doorway through which Forrest had departed.

Once underway, Mildred Langston sat in silence and stared out the side window. Erica accepted it with a dull ache in her heart. Things were most certainly not right in her world. The day might be balmy and the June sunshine brilliant, but the chilly atmosphere within the carriage permeated her very spirit.

Finally she could bear it no longer. “I do wish you wouldn’t treat me so, Mama.”

Her mother addressed her words out the window. “How would you like me to treat you, then?”

“As your daughter.” Speaking those words brought such a lump to her throat Erica could scarcely breathe.
I will not cry,
she told herself.
I will not
. “Nothing has changed.”

“On the contrary, I am under the distinct impression that quite a lot has been altered. To my dismay I find my child has elected to become a shopkeeper.”

“Mama, I am not a shopkeeper! I am a merchant.”

Mildred waved the correction aside.

“Do you not want me to be happy, Mama?”

“Child, it is high time you realize the world does not revolve about your every whim. There are certain demands that society places upon a woman. A proper lady does not delve too deeply into the affairs of men. She disposes herself in polite company. She attends to her elders. She learns the proper graces.”

“Do I not attend you? Am I not going to tea with you this afternoon?” Erica struggled to keep the entreaty from turning into tears. “Is it not possible to do both?”

Only when the carriage halted before an imposing manor of brick and whitewashed pillars did Mildred turn to regard her daughter directly. “No,” she replied firmly, “it is not.”

Once inside the manor, Erica was quickly separated from her mother by the crush of ladies. Even so, she could feel Mildred’s gaze tracking her about the room. She held her head high and greeted each of the ladies in turn. She spoke when she was addressed and listened avidly to the latest gossip. Yet she could not dismiss the leaden weight that enveloped her heart, and inwardly she continued the discussion begun in the carriage. Why was it not possible to be both a proper lady and a woman of affairs? Why could she not assist her father in running their business and be a lady in her mother’s eyes as well?

“You have not heard a single word I have spoken to you.”

Erica started as though shaken awake. The same words her mother had said to her father, now addressed to her. “Forgive me.”

“Your mind was wandering, Miss Langston.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied to Abigail Cutter, Horace’s mother. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Cutter.”

“I take it you have no interest in how London fashion has taken to peacock feathers this season.”

“It is lovely, I’m sure.”

The older woman smiled. “Come over here by the window, my dear.”

The parlor was elegant, with two sets of bay windows framed by long velvet drapes. In the relative privacy of sunlight and crimson, Mrs. Cutter steered Erica about so that her back was to the room. “You look troubled, Erica.”

“Everything is splendid, I’m sure.”

“Look at me. Have I not known you since you were crawling about my front parlor? Do I not hear my son go on about you endlessly?” She grimaced. “I should not have said that. Horace would be mortified to learn I was so open about his affections.”

“I did not hear a word, Mrs. Cutter.”

“Please call me Abigail. Now tell me what is the matter. No, allow me to guess. Your mother is distressed by your venturing into your father’s business dealings.”

Erica could not hide her concern. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“Shall I tell you what is swirling about this fine chamber today? It is how a young lady in this company spied a sweeper at her father’s warehouse, borrowed some leaf from our own company, and from these modest beginnings has put together an idea so remarkable every merchant in town is speaking of nothing else. There are many among us who envy you, my dear.”

“Why would any of these ladies envy me?”

“It is the Age of Enlightenment, have you not heard? We watch the overthrow of the French aristocracy, we observe the rise of our own nation, we fight for the abolition of slavery. Whyever should the right of women to choose their own course through life not be part and parcel of this? That is, some of us speak thus, and more think the same yet are afraid to speak out. Others, however, decry all of this as utter nonsense, and they condemn you for representing what for them is an absurd new trend.”

Abigail Cutter was as spare a person as her son, tall and angular and not particularly attractive. Yet she possessed a certain vivacity and sharpness of wit that overcame her physical shortcomings. Particularly when the fire was in her voice and she revealed a passion that defied the polite confines of this chamber. “You spoke to my son about a desire to enter into the business world alongside your mate.”

Erica found herself very glad she faced the window and the day, so as to hide the blush that rose upon her features. “I might have mentioned something to that effect.”

“Shall I tell you what I said to my son?”

“Y-yes, I suppose, that is …”

“I said that he should grab onto this woman with all his might. He should seek her as he would the highest treasure.” She smiled and the years dropped away. “Of course, my husband was livid.”

“He was? At me?”

“Assuredly. He objects most strenuously to women seeking any place outside the home. And then to have a woman create such a business coup with his very own Carolina leaf … Oh my, be glad you were not around when he learned that.”

“I am sorry to hear this, Mrs. Cutter. I hold your husband in the highest esteem.”

“Did I not tell you to call me Abigail? And don’t worry about Horace Senior. I for one was delighted to see the male hierarchy taken aback by a lovely young lady. It does them a world of good, if you ask me.” She smiled a greeting to someone Erica could not see. “Now, then. Is there anything else troubling you this fine day?”

“No, ma’am. Well, that is …”

“A word of advice, my dear. Learn to identify allies. No matter how smart you may be, no matter how strong, you will always need those you can trust and to whom you can turn in times of hardship. Which come to all of us, I am sorry to say.”

“There is something.” Erica paused, but her hesitation was not due to the subject. It was because this was the first time she had ever spoken to an older woman as she would an equal. “My father is most distressed by the rumors of war.”

“As are many of the merchants among us.”

“We have heard nothing of any definite nature. Can you tell me, is there anything new developing that we should know about?”

Abigail Cutter set her cup down on a nearby sideboard. “You know that my son-in-law, Samuel Aldridge, is quite well connected within this administration.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What I am about to tell you is in the strictest confidence, my dear.”

The sudden tension caused Erica’s voice to tremble. “Of course, ma’am.”

“Word arrived yesterday of another incident at sea. A group of British vessels surrounded an American merchant ship. They press-ganged more than half the men.”

“That’s dreadful!”

“Softly, my dear. Softly. I agree. What is more important, so do our leaders. This is the third such incident in as many months. The British government continues to harass our traders at every turn. Now there is discussion of doubling the tariffs they charge vessels flying our flag.”

“We can scarcely pay what they demand now!”

“Precisely.” Her voice held a tension as taut as a ship’s cable.

“The president has convened a special meeting of his cabinet for this evening. Tomorrow he addresses Congress. He spoke this very morning with Senator Fulton, who is one of his key allies, to warn him of their intentions.” Abigail Cutter leaned in closer still. “You must prepare yourself for a shock.”

As gently as possible, Erica inserted herself into the group at the room’s other end. She tapped her mother on the shoulder.

“Ah, Erica, there you are. You remember Mrs. Lawrence.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Mother, please excuse me. I am unwell.”

“My dear?”

“It has come on me all of a sudden.” She gripped her mother’s arm with fierce intent. “I really must be leaving.”

Mildred’s face tightened with alarm. “But of course.”

“Shall I have my man attend you, Mildred?” asked Mrs. Lawrence.

“No!” Erica knew she spoke too loudly. But she also knew she was no longer able to hide behind her polite mask. “No. Really. Thank you. Mother, we must leave at once.”

Rushing in the long skirts with their multitude of petticoats was such a bother. She almost tripped over her own hem upon the broad front stairs, which only heightened Mildred’s alarm.

“Erica, what on earth is the matter?”

“Wait until we are underway.” Erica cried to the footman, “Where is our carriage?”

“I sent the boy to fetch it, miss.”

Mildred added her voice to that of her daughter’s. “Well, send another! Can’t you see my daughter is unwell?”

“Of course, madam. Miss, would you care to sit down?”

“Yes, do take his chair, Erica.”