“Of course, Father.”
“Your remaining time must be given over to the ball we’re hosting. Speaking of that, where is the guest list you promised?”
“I’ve not yet finished it.”
“Bring it up as soon as possible.” His attempt to shift his ailing leg led to a red-faced yelp.
Juliet hated to discuss such things when he was unwell. But she pressed on if only to forestall finishing the guest list. “What would you have me do about the stallion you sold to Mr. Lee, who says he wants it delivered as soon as possible?”
“I’ll leave that for you to decide.” Leaning back againstthe bank of pillows, Father closed his eyes. “All I know is this misery delays me from important matters in Williamsburg.”
Like courting?
Juliet leaned over and kissed his knotted brow. Loveday hurried in just then, carrying a cup and bottle and casting her a worried glance.
Excusing herself, Juliet went downstairs and waited just inside the entry hall for the sheriff to arrive. When the wagon pulled into sight, she noted the bound runaways. Shackled, Jacob and Armistead left the wagon. It took all Juliet’s will to mask her feelings over the matter. She couldn’t even summon a word for the sheriff other than to tell him to follow Hosea to the bellhouse as Father instructed.
She tried to catch the fettered men’s eyes, to communicate some sort of assurance or hope, but their heads were bent as they were taken away. Only a few more hours and they’d be shackled no longer.
Lord, please let it be.
When Dr. Cartwright arrived, she accompanied him on his rounds to the quarters after he saw Father. She was glad when the noon bell rang, signaling a brief respite under cloudy skies for those who labored. She’d been hearing that bell all her life, but till now she’d not thought what it might be like to live without it. After returning to the house, she sat down in Father’s study and took out the unfinished guest list for the ball, gravel in her belly.
Perhaps the Scot’s ship would sink.
The uncharitable thought came with swift conviction. Resting her aching head atop her arms, she asked forgiveness. If ever she wished Mama back, it was now. Dear, hospitable Mama, who had so skillfully managed plantation life that Father suffered a greater, more grievous loss.
Taking up a quill, she combed through all of Williamsburgin her mind before mentally scouring the James River on both sides for neighbors who’d expect an invitation.Denbeigh. Carter’s Grove. Richneck. Westover. Berkely ...Topping the guest list was Nathaniel Ravenal and family. Wounded pride was not to be dealt with. Offenses among the Tidewater gentry were never forgotten nor forgiven.
“You need me, Miss Juliet?” Rilla, their cook, stood in the doorway, her apron spotless, her turbaned head a vivid red.
“The menu for the ball needs discussing. Please, come in and sit down.” Juliet motioned to a chair near the window. “I believe we should display an elegant cold supper in the Virginia tradition with punch, wines, and chocolate—but no tea.”
A slight smile. “The forbidden herb.”
“I’ve nearly forgotten what true tea tastes like, it’s been so long.”
“Your father will want oysters, Miss Juliet.”
“Of course. Oysters. As many as you think will suffice.” She couldn’t abide them personally, but they were a Tidewater staple. “I’m thinking a hundred guests unless I can whittle down the list.”
Rilla nodded. “Ahead of Christmas, then.”
“Mid-November. I’ll settle on an exact date once I hear Mr. Buchanan has docked.” Again a broken ship’s mast and wild waves flashed to mind, but for all she knew he’d already set foot safely in Virginia.
“Should I bake a queen’s cake?”
“Perhaps several of them, sliced thinly with some late fruit from the orchard. A nice finish after a heavy meal.”
“Very well. ’Twill be a fine gathering.”
Rilla returned to the kitchen as the house settled into its afternoon routines. An early supper followed in the dining room with only her and Loveday at table. Without Fatherthe usual dinner hour was halved, the fare a simple soup, veal olives, and raspberry fool.
“You’ve little appetite tonight,” Loveday said, taking up her spoon for dessert.
“I’ve much on my mind.”
“I’ll be glad for winter, when the pace slackens.”
