“Have you time to inspect the newest vats, Miss Catesby?”
“The vats that cost us nearly the price of last year’s rice crop?” she returned matter-of-factly.
He grimaced and returned his hat to his head. “And a few hogsheads of Royal Vale’s tobacco to boot.”
Swallowing down an epithet no lady would utter, she traipsed after him, holding her skirts nearly to her knees to not sully them further. Her morning bath mocked her as her armpits grew damp, her tightly laced stays more sweat than linen. But with Father away in Williamsburg again, who else was to manage plantation matters and be accountable?
Certainly not Loveday.
Her younger sister was likely waiting for her, holding tight to the promise they could honor their engagement at Forrest Bend. But first, the vats.
Housed under a wide, seemingly league-long roof, they were a fortune of pumps and pendulums and tubs awaiting the indigo. Once they were filled, the reek was such that they had to be placed a half a mile or more from the main house. Though it produced a beautiful product, indigo making was a putrid business.
“We need more indentures,” she told him.
“What you need, Miss Catesby, are more seasoned indigo hands, and that’s hard to come by with raw indentures.” He pulled his hat lower. “We could bring up the best sugar slaves from further south. Exchange them for the least productive here.”
She wanted to spit—andthatwas most unladylike. Belle Isle, their Carolina plantation, had been a thorn for years, the overseers there negligent because of distance, the marshlands breeding illness, the enslaved among the most miserable. “You know how I feel about Belle Isle.”
Nash gave a terse nod. “As far as expense, new vats mean less repairs.”
“The vats are the last thing on my mind,” she admitted. “We can only hope that the damage done by grasshoppers during the last dry season doesn’t recur.”
“It reduced the crop by half, aye.”
And our fortunes with it. The damage done to her and her fellow indigo planters was incalculable and sank them further in debt. But a successful yield this year...
Stemming a sigh, she turned back toward the chaise. “I must go.”
The Catesby chariot raced down an avenue of oaks whose ancient branches brought blessed shade. Juliet felt the breeze brush her heated face as she drew her arms closer to her sides to hide the stained silk beneath. Beside her, Loveday chatted as if the summer heat was of little consequence. How was it that her sister didn’t even perspire?Dew, Loveday teasingly called it. Was it because she was so tiny, so dainty? Juliet felt like an Amazon beside her.
Loveday took out a fan and waved it about in the windlessair. “Frances promised us ice cream at Forrest Bend. You know the receipt from Hannah Glasse’s cookbook Mama gave Mrs. Ravenal that she was so fond of? When she used the pewter basins? I prefer raspberry but just remembered you have a penchant for peaches.”
Nay, indigo, Juliet almost teased. With the first harvest bearing down upon them, her every thought was colored blue.
“I wonder if Judith and Lucy will be there. I regret we had that falling-out last month, but I can’t stay silent when they speak of you as if you’re a field hand with comments about your complexion—”
“Never mind that.” Juliet sent her a sideways smile. “I am too often in the fields, and though I always wear a hat, the sun sneaks through.”
“You must try my honey of roses masque. I’ve a fresh pot of it in the stillroom just for you.” Loveday inhaled deeply as if savoring the scent. “Apply two drams honey of roses and oil of tartar overnight, then rinse clean with lemon juice in the morning.”
“I do love roses, though it sounds a trifle astringent.”
“Please try it, for my sake. Gentlemen aren’t fond of befreckled women.”
“Oh? What are gentlemen fond of?” Juliet couldn’t keep the mockery from her tone. “I’ve often wondered.”
“Fortunes, to begin. One’s connections.” Loveday turned pensive. “A face and figure.”
“You have the latter in spades, little sister.”
“You are biased, of course. I’m not the belle I wish to be. I’m too ... small.”
“Petite is the better word.”
“Petite, ah,” Loveday said with a smile, arguably her best feature. Dimples dawned in both cheeks, drawing attention to full lips that never seemed to frown or scowl or be less than lovely.
“You make even the shortest gentleman seem tall, always a win for these proud Virginians. And you are voluptuous as velvet, not melting into thin air, as Shakespeare says.”
