“I’ve crafted a balm and sage tea that would make even Aunt Damarus proud.” Smiling so widely she dimpled, Loveday held up a glass jar as if it contained the elixir of immortality. “You really do take after her, you know, though at the moment you’ve lost all the bloom off your face from overseeing Father’s affairs.”
Bloom aside, Juliet took after her mother’s Quaker sister not only in looks but in leanings. Though Aunt Damarus was in faraway Philadelphia, her convictions loomed large, of late her boycott of slave-grown sugar. She even refused to take sugar in her tea.
“No more hyson for us!” Loveday exclaimed with relish.“I’ve just discovered another alternative—fennel seed and spicewood, a powerful remedy against agues and hysteric colics.”
“Of which I have neither.”
“Praise be for that.”
“A tax should never have been levied against us tea drinkers,” Juliet said as she examined the stillroom’s tidy, well-stocked shelves. The very air seemed a salve, the mingling of dried herbs and simples astonishingly fragrant. “The British keep inventing new ways to control how America conducts business, right down to our very appetites.”
“You’re looking quite wan.” Loveday’s concern suffused her animated features. “’Tis that infernal pain in your head, I suppose.”
Juliet didn’t deny it. Headaches had become an almost daily occurrence.
“Nothing I’ve concocted has helped. I’m quite at a loss.” Loveday’s eyes turned teary. “If you would just put aside all your ledgers and correspondence, even briefly...”
“You know Father depends on me and I cannot.”
“Well, let’s plan a liberty tea party this afternoon, just us two. Or if you’d rather, we’ll serve coffee or hot chocolate. I’ll ask Mahala to make your favorite little cakes with currants and muscovado sugar.”
“You’re trying to puff me up when you well know I literally burst my stays last week.”
“Losh! You simply need new stays as yours are so worn.”
“What we need are new gowns for the coming holiday season.”
Loveday returned the tea to the shelf. “We’ll make do in remade ones, I suppose.”
Juliet hated to disappoint her. “Remember Mama’s trunk in the attic? I found some saffron silk from our silkwormsthat would work well for you, including some exquisite lace, though I’m happy to wear my green lustring.”
“Green, not your usual blue? We shall walk about looking like lemons and limes, then.” Sitting down on a stool, Loveday rolled her eyes. “I had in mind something softer like rose or even orchid, similar to the silk I saw at the mantua-maker’s in Williamsburg.”
“Last I heard, the mantua-maker was turning all away except those who can pay in advance in currency, not tobacco credit.”
“So ’tis that bad, is it?” When Juliet paused, Loveday continued in quiet tones as if not wanting Father to overhear, as he’d just returned from town. “Are our dowries at risk?”
Juliet weighed her answer to the question she’d dreaded. “Yours is still intact.”
A frown marred Loveday’s face. “But not yours.”
“Mine went to pay taxes, but given there’s no suitor in sight, I’m not concerned. All that matters to me are your prospects.”
“Prospects? Spoiled planters’ sons, all, shirking work and giving themselves airs. Frightfully unattractive.” Loveday surveyed a tray of drying marigolds and chrysanthemums. “Give me a virile man with callused hands, not an entitled pansy whose skin is fairer than mine.”
“Perhaps your prospects would be brighter in Philadelphia. We could write Aunt Damarus about a social season there.”
“I daresay she’s too busy boycotting tea and sugar and the like to play matchmaker to her nieces.”
“Niece.”
“We are in this together.” Loveday pinned Juliet with her sternest look. “I’ll not be the only one who walks down the aisle. It’s long been a dream of mine for us both to wedand have families. My children playing with yours like we did with our cousins growing up. ’Tis no secret you adore children.”
“And I shall dearly love yours when the time comes.”
They paused as a door banged shut. Father’s whistling could be heard as he left the house and skirted the kitchen garden on his way to the dependencies.
“My, he’s in a mood.” Loveday looked to the door, her voice a whisper. “Have you any further word about the Williamsburg widow?”
