Selah sighed. She’d oft felt the lure of open fields and unfenced lands herself. Yet the danger remained. “Perhaps one day Rose-n-Vale will be as safe and lovely as it sounds.”
Cecily began drawing in the sand with her twig. Selah made out the initials A and C. “Mistress of Rose-n-Vale. How I warm to the title.” Tossing aside the twig, Cecily stood. “Let’s go nearer the house, shall we? ’Tis scandalously large, I hear.”
“Trespass, you mean?”
Already Cecily had started up the bank, skirts raised above her scarlet garters. Selah trailed her uphill, relieved Xander was away and would never know they’d encroached on his territory. Winded, they came to the place that gave them a territorial view, the James River at their backs. Up here where the wind blew free, the air smelled sweet in any season.
Wildflowers spread before them like a floral carpet, a few mighty oaks casting shadows and breaking up the cleared landscape. A sizeable arbor stood at the back of the main house, a showy display of red blooms not yet ablaze on leggy stems. The expanding mansion so talked about in town was now before them, its newest windows large and sashed with crystal glass, the roof crowned with diamond-turned chimney stacks.
Surrounding the house stood orchards, all young, mostly of stone fruit, some trees thriving, some struggling. Timbered dependencies fronted a lane to the west beyond the summer kitchen.
Cecily came to a stop. “Why, even Governor Harvey cannot boast of such a dwelling! And fences as far as the eye can see. But all wood rails, not stone like in the Old World.”
Selah felt a grudging admiration. Truly, Xander had accomplished much and come by it honestly given the sweat of his brow and his agile mind. No one had handed him anything with a velvet glove.
“What’s that curious structure in the far field?”
Selah followed Cecily’s finger. “’Tis a drying barn to cure tobacco. One of them. His indentures work year-round building, not just toiling in the fields.”
Even as she said it she heard the ring of a hammer and voices. Labor was in force all around them, the very pulse of the growing plantation. And then came a deep, resounding bark, carried on the warm wind.
Selah’s attention narrowed to the dog sprinting at full speed toward them, a streak of deep red amid so much spring green. Cecily stepped behind her, peering over Selah’s shoulder in alarm. “What on earth . . . ?”
“’Tis Ruby Renick,” Selah said as the hound stopped at her bidding, tongue lolling and tail wagging wildly. “But where is your constant companion, Jett?”
Cecily extended a careful hand to stroke Ruby’s sleek coat. “What an odd-looking breed. All legs. And such a small head! One would think there’s not a brain in it.”
“Don’t be fooled. They’re quite clever. Devoted, even gentle. Oceanus adored them. He’d sometimes ride on their backs.” ’Twas Oceanus’s laugh she most remembered, and his delight in the natural world. She’d come visiting whenever she could. But not nearly enough.
Cecily raised a hand to shade her eyes. “I believe I spy his aunt coming out of the house.”
Had Widow Brodie seen them gawking?
“We’d best hie home.” Selah scoured the darkening horizon, mindful of the last hailstorm. “Those coming clouds cry rain.”
They bade Ruby farewell and hastened down the hill toward shore. Their return downriver was swifter, Cecily’s attempts at paddling surer. Once they landed, the wind shifted, their skirts along with it. They returned the canoe to its hiding place among the reeds as raindrops began falling, dimpling the water.
The Bountiful Ann, newly arrived from the West Indies, now shadowed the James Towne wharf, its sailors roaming free of the vessel. Some drank openly from flagons of ale. A dash of ribaldry rode the air amid coarse conversation and laughter. The tawdry tavern near the waterfront, a favorite haunt of seamen, would not sleep tonight. Eyes down, Selah paid the sailors no mind, but Cecily returned their brazen stares.
“Who was it said these Virginia wenches are toad ugly?” roared one, to drunken laughter. “I beg to differ!”
Passing the sheriff making his rounds, Selah hurried down a safer street arm in arm with Cecily. Home was but a few minutes outside town, and never had she been gladder to arrive.
As they entered the kitchen, Candace turned around from the bake oven, hands full of a golden loaf of wheaten bread. “There you are! I was beginning to fret.” She set the bread on the table to Cecily’s admiring exclamations, voice fading to a whisper. “There’s a visitor in the parlor.”
“A visitor?” Cecily said.
“One who desires your company. Goodman Wentz. You can invite him to sup with us if you wish.”
“I shall see.” Cecily returned to the door. She removed a shoe and shook it free of sand, then did the same with the other before venturing toward the parlor.
“I’m sorry we’re tardy.” Washing up at a near basin, Selah began telling her mother and Izella of their adventure upriver.
“You saw naught of the master?” Candace asked.
“None but Ruby, though his aunt appeared at the last. I believe Xander is still away.”
Candace’s brow furrowed. “God protect him.”
Shay and Ustis came in, having closed and locked the store. “A great many rowdies out tonight, though I’m glad enough of these West Indies goods.” Ustis hung his hat on a peg. “Tomorrow we’ll take inventory as the warehouses fill. Tonight I must give the annual accounting as cape merchant so shall be away in the governor’s chambers.”
Laughter floated from the parlor, and Candace met Ustis’s inquiring glance. “Cecily has another suitor.”
“From the sounds of it, aye,” he replied, taking a seat. “Wentz, is it? I thought Peacock was still in the running. And what of you, Daughter?”
Selah began slicing bread. “I am no tobacco bride, mind you.”
“A father can wish, aye?” ’Twas his eternal lament. “Today Master Jacoby came in with all nine of his grandchildren, buying them this and that. I thought how fine a thing it would be to have some descendants.”
Selah withheld a sigh. “There is always Shay.”
“Much too young for an attachment,” Ustis said over the drone of rain on the slate roof. “You, on the other hand . . .”
“Ustis,” Candace chided, setting a crock of butter and cheese on the table. “Such tiresome talk hardly helps Selah go groom hunting.”
Ustis continued undaunted. “The best men will soon be taken once all this matrimony dies down.”
A lengthy prayer was said, matrimony duly mentioned, in which Ustis all but named the suitor he favored.
“Amen,” he said reverently before reaching for a slice of warm bread. “’Tis my duty as your father to pursue the subject, Daughter. Pray to that end.”
Across the table, Shay winked at Selah as if to ease her.
“I should rather marry for love than the price of tobacco,” Selah returned quietly.
“Love hardly fills the larder. Marriage is first and foremost a business matter. Affection may come in time, but ’tis clearly secondary to prudence.”
They’d gone around and around like this ever since Selah had come of age. Oddly, she didn’t take offense. She understood his reasoning, his practical nature, his fervent desire to see her happily settled well past his own lifetime. Even as her own hopes for a love match dwindled.