“You are welcome to Cook’s table in the summer kitchen, if that is your preference.”
“I offer no complaint, sir. ’Tis just that your choice of guardian was an exacting man.” She sighed, confirming what he’d suspected about his aging uncle. “Children and servants remained out of sight below stairs unless sent for.”
He took another drink. “Brave New World, indeed.”
“’Twill take some getting used to, these little freedoms.” Opening a fan, she began wafting it about. “I’m afraid Oceanus had a fitful night, given the insects and the heat.”
“He’ll adjust soon enough.” Xander looked again toward the windows. The sun rode the horizon, shimmering over the river in its sultry climb. Newcomers fared badly in the summer, especially the sweltering days of August. “He’s fast asleep, or was when I looked in on him before breakfast.”
“His chest still ails him. I suppose you heard him coughing in the night.”
The troubling sound added a new layer of angst. Suppose Oceanus was sickly from a lack of fresh air and exercise? “I’ve sent for a physic to examine him. Expect his arrival later today.” Done with his cassina, Xander eyed the clock, ready to begin his morning ride. “Now seems a good time to tell you I want the boy breeched.”
“Breeched?” Her cup rattled when she set it down. “Oceanus is but four.”
“Four seems a great age, when boys here are oft put out of coats sooner. His hair needs cutting too.”
Without his blackish mane, Oceanus would be far cooler, yet Nurse Lineboro was regarding Xander as if he’d called for a scalping instead. Heat seared his neck at her reaction, leaving him more at sea about parenting the lad.
He forged ahead. “Tomorrow morn we’ll have a meeting about Oceanus’s time in Scotland, his schooling and life there. My kinsman sent a number of reports the last two years, but you no doubt have your own thoughts as his nurse.”
“Indeed I do, sir.”
When his aunt came back into the room, the stilted silence had her casting him a questioning look. A heavy tread on the stairs led to McCaskey’s appearance, his jovial nature a balm for what had gone before.
“Cassina, ye say? I must try it.” Sitting, he took an appreciative sip once Widow Brodie filled his cup. “Bracing. Like a stiff Scots headwind. And ... maize? Corn pone? Nae bannocks?”
“Nae oats, nae bannocks,” Xander replied. “Corn abounds here but only a wee bit o’ wheat.”
“I’ll nae complain.” McCaskey smiled at Nurse Lineboro. “A pleasant night, I hope?”
“Not in this heat, I’m afraid. Nor did Oceanus fare any better.”
“A pity.” McCaskey’s joviality dimmed. “I’ve heard some Virginians have their Africans cool them with feather fans at bed and table to combat both the insects and the weather.”
The nurse turned inquiring eyes on Xander. “Might that be arranged?”
Arranged? He set his jaw to quell his aggravation. He usually shunned unsavory talk at table, though these newcomers were understandably curious. “You’ll find no slave labor here. I can easily recount for you all the woes Virginia has inflicted on itself since the first ship carrying Africans docked.”
“God forgive us.” His aunt shut her eyes for the briefest second. “Let us forgo the details.”
With a wince, McCaskey took another sip of cassina. “Still, more slavers are bound for Virginia than any other port. And most planters prefer slave labor over indentures.”
“Yet Rose-n-Vale’s tobacco exports outstrip every planter in the Tidewater without them.” ’Twas Xander’s best defense.
“To my great pleasure as yer factor.” McCaskey’s smile showed uneven white teeth. “Such a frightful clamor for Virginia’s Orinoco. British buyers continue to prefer yer leaf o’er all else, and now ’tis on the continent, especially sought after by the Dutch, making the Spanish seethe with indignation.”
“Is it true the Spaniards inflict the death penalty for any selling their tobacco seed?” Nurse Lineboro asked as she sampled a corncake at the urging of Xander’s aunt.
“They threaten, aye.”
“Our ship’s captain reports Spanish vessels are oft sighted in Chesapeake Bay.” Her anxious eyes sought Xander. “Virginia remains on alert for the Spanish threat, do they not?”
“Spanish spies, mostly. But the truth is the Spaniards have set their sights on the Caribbean and Florida and are no longer the hazard they once were.”
“Britain has a solid foothold here.” McCaskey heaped his plate with bacon and bread. “I might well decide to forsake Scotland for America in future, but I’ll not settle amongst those prim Puritans with their ban on tobacco.”
“The Puritans reside mostly in Massachusetts Bay, though a small remnant live just across the river,” Xander told them.
