“Alexander has just returned home.” The news raised then dashed Selah’s hopes. “He is zealous to return to the fields and is likely there as we speak.”
Selah understood. “’Tis a critical time for farming, especially Orinoco.”
“Indeed.” An onerous sigh. “Topping tobacco, foremost, and combating pests, mostly those detestable worms.” Widow Brodie frowned as she examined an ell of printed cloth. “I fear this year’s crop is beginning badly with so much rain.”
Spring had been one damp blur. But better than drought, surely. Taking a breath, Selah summoned all her courage. “I should like to call at Rose-n-Vale ... when the master has time to be interrupted.”
The widow’s white brows arched. Selah awaited chastisement, a rebuke to her boldness, thus ending her undertaking for Cecily.
“’Tis a private matter,” Selah quickly added, and a light dawned in the older woman’s faded blue eyes. Did she think...? Selah didn’t mean to poke a hole in the woman’s matrimonial hopes, at least where she herself was concerned. “Shay has also caught an enormous sturgeon for your table.”
“Oh my!” The widow regained her composure. “A fresh fish cannot be kept waiting. I bid you come at your earliest convenience. This afternoon, perhaps? Alexander is oft in his study in the heat of the day.”
“Thank you,” Selah replied in confirmation, and they both moved on amid the busy marketplace.
Selah continued perusing goods, keeping close watch on her pockets. Though thievery was punished, pickpockets still plied their dubious trade. Bumped by a burly man hefting alarge basket, with nary an apology, she was thrust into the path of Helion Laurent.
Removing his plumed hat, the physic gave a courtly little bow, which struck her as more ridiculous than gallant. “Mistress Hopewell, you look all business on market day.”
“I am about my father’s interests, sir.”
“Obviously. But have you no pleasurable pursuits beyond a bargain and the next stall’s enticements? Your brother is quite capable, is he not? Yet ’tis you who are most mercenary.”
She attempted to move past him, but a throng of shoppers slowed her. “Shay is not yet of age and is still being schooled. He’s only lately returned from England, besides.”
He returned his hat to his head. “I’ve always felt it unseemly that a woman of your station conducts business like a man. In Europe such is frowned upon.”
She herself frowned and returned her attention to a display of snuff boxes. Would her dismay at his presence never lessen? “You’d best adjust to New World attitudes, sir, when women, including tobacco brides, not only have a place in commerce but own property.”
“Indeed. A move of desperation to populate the colony. How else would we lure women to this rusticated outpost without giving them a token of independence?”
“You do not agree with those measures?” Done with his arrogance, she met his eyes. “And yet you sit on the council, the very body that gave them the stamp of approval?”
“I recommend women respect their place and not aspire to dangerous privilege nor masculine pursuits.”
They were drawing notice, people pausing to overhear their barbed exchange, including the worst of James Towne’s gossips.
Lest she be branded a scold, Selah retreated, relieved when he made no effort to detain her. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
He turned his back on her, falling into conversation with a colony official. Walking toward them were Candace and Cecily, the latter still looking a tad peaked. Trying to collect herself, Selah paused to peruse a display of pipes, turning a particularly fetching one from Port Royal over in her hand. Shay had told her Xander had quite a collection at Rose-n-Vale. Producing enough coin, she paid for the handsomest as well as a pouch of Caribbean tobacco.
“What is it that holds your interest?” Cecily inquired, eyes on her purchases. “Surely you do not smoke!”
Selah held the items aloft. “Perhaps these shall sweeten the deal.”
Cecily resembled a cat served a dish of cream. “Well done!”
“Deal?” Candace lost her joviality. “Are you two mischief making?”
“Just being matrimonially minded,” Selah reassured her as she continued on, trying to put as much distance between herself and Laurent as she could.
’Twas midafternoon when Selah and Shay took the canoe upriver, his catch netted in the cold water to keep it from the heat.
“Betimes I wish we could keep going,” she told him, still pondering her unsavory encounter with Laurent. “The Blue Mountains are bewitchingly beautiful, ’tis said.”
“I should like the same, but remember, the wider the river, the thicker the danger. ’Tis foolish to venture past the fallsof the James. The Monacans who dwell in the foothills are Powhatan enemies.” He suspended his oar, and the canoe continued gliding like a swan. “You suppose Xander has tales to tell of his time away?”
“Perhaps a story or two in exchange for your fine fish,” she replied.
