Mindful of the other women who needed visiting, they let themselves out. The first call was deemed a success. Hardy asshe was in frame, Jane would no doubt survive the seasoning. She had a remedy from both the physic and Selah’s basket. At least she knew they were concerned and tried to help.
By midafternoon, Selah and Laurent had made all their rounds of the day but one.
The approach to Wentz Hundred was open, most trees felled, allowing a territorial view that was especially advantageous in times of danger. Framed in a ray of sunlight spearing cindery clouds, Cecily called to her from an open doorway as Selah dismounted. “Is that you, Selah—with company?”
“Aye, ’tis Doctor Laurent and a maidservant and I. Come to see how you are faring in your new role as Mistress Wentz.”
“What a pairing!” she said impishly, eyes on Laurent now speaking with Phineas near the stable. “A mercy mission, I suppose. Out and about seeing how we brides are adjusting to these strange husbands of ours?”
They embraced, nearly upending Selah’s basket, though it was empty of all but a pot of honey and a small token for Cecily’s mother-in-law.
Cecily eyed the amber contents with satisfaction. “Phineas is partial to sweetening. He stands by molasses, but I prefer the work of bees any day.”
Selah crossed the well-kept yard, where nary a weed seemed to sprout, a few flowers taking hold around the door stoop. Surrounding outbuildings showed the same careful tending. The house was typical of middling planters, carrying an echo of England with its daub and clay. Over the threshold they went, into a shadowed room where a stoop-shouldered woman sat in a settle near the hearth despite the heat of the day.
“Welcome, Mistress Hopewell,” she said with a tremulous voice. “I’ve known you since you were so small you couldn’t see over your store counter, though my failing eyesight has kept me housebound since.”
“Good to see you again, Widow Wentz.” Reaching into her basket, Selah knelt by the woman’s chair. “Mother thought you might like spirits of rosemary.”
“For headache, aye.” She breathed in the scent as Selah uncorked the vial. “Reminds me so of England—our Rothbury garden.”
“The Wentzes have wellborn kin in Sussex.” Cecily carried a covered plate to the table. “Phineas has mentioned visiting in future.”
“Oh, such a travail a voyage is.” Widow Wentz’s voice rose in strength. “Blessed am I that I shan’t risk another crossing at my great age.”
“We shall wait till your heavenly homegoing to take our wedding journey, then,” Cecily said matter-of-factly.
Amused, Selah sat as Cecily served oat scones she’d baked. Amid all the barnyard noises outside, they spoke of the latest James Towne happenings as Widow Wentz fell asleep in her chair.
“Seems like an age since I’ve seen you, Selah,” Cecily lamented.
“You look well in your new role.”
“Do I? Laboring from sunup to sundown?” With a grimace she held up work-worn hands studded with calluses. “Those colony officials failed to mention the endless work awaiting us. I have little time for pleasure, including my silver lace making.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you did, sadly. The council has justpassed a law banning the wearing of silver thread and all finery, except for the gentry.”
“What?” Her long-lashed eyes snapped. “The council acts as if they’ve been crowned king! Nor can we spin or weave—”
The old woman snorted in her sleep, halting Cecily’s tirade.
“Virginia takes some getting used to, aye, but it has its merits, surely,” Selah whispered.
An eye roll was her answer. “Snakes that bedevil and torrid temperatures, a hen that won’t lay and two sheep felled by a wild creature, an endless grinding of corn for every meal—”
“A sturdy house to keep the weather away. A husband who adores you. Other wives near for company.” Selah took a bite of scone. “Delicious baked goods.”
Still appearing downcast, Cecily toyed with the coral necklace upon her bodice. “’Tis our lot, I suppose, to be content with our fate, not torment our husbands with impatient murmurings.”
“You are tired and overwhelmed. Would Phineas allow a maidservant to help you?”
“I shall ask him. But who?”
“A pair of recently orphaned sisters from James Towne who are both amiable and industrious and seeking work. Would you like me to arrange a meeting?”
“Please do.” Cecily brightened and rose abruptly as the door opened. “Ah, here is the renowned physic himself! Do come in, sir. How pleased I am that you have graced our humble home.”
15
