A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) Page 11

  “I think I’m up to the task, but thank you for your concern all the same. Are you ready to go, Abbie?” Finn asked, knowing full well he was provoking a scene. He’d be damned if he allowed this insufferable prig to walk Abbie home.

  “The young lady will walk with me, sir,” Granville said stiffly, his cheeks growing red with indignation.

  “Why don’t we let the young lady decide for herself, sir?” replied Finn with mock politeness. “I think Abbie knows her own mind.” He gave Abbie what he thought was a winning smile. If there’s anything he’d learned about Abbie was that she had her own opinions and needed them to be heard and respected. Abbie had just opened her mouth to reply when Granville cut her off.

  “A respectable young lady is always happy to defer to the judgment of a man, sir, and in this case, she will agree with my opinion that she’s better off escorted by someone who has serious intentions toward her rather than a day laborer who has nothing to offer her but grievous insult.”

  Finn didn’t bother to reply. His fist met Granville’s nose with a satisfying crunch, as the boy fell on his arse into the mud with a yowl of pain. A thin trickle of blood flowed from his injured nose into his mouth, staining his teeth red. Some blood dripped onto his snowy stock, infuriating Granville further. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, staring at the blood in disbelief.

  “You scoundrel!” Matthew Granville roared his face puce with rage. “Abbie, come here this instant. I forbid you to associate with this vile ruffian.”

  Finn nearly laughed at the expression on Granville’s face. What an arrogant prick. He’d just hammered a nail into his own coffin by trying to tell Abbie what to do. Finn averted his eyes from Matthew’s face, watching Abbie’s reaction from under his lashes. Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as she took in what Matthew had just said. She looked as if she was about to say something she would regret later, but changed her mind, turning up her nose at Granville instead.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Matthew, but as Finn pointed out, I think I can decide for myself, and I’ve just decided to allow him to walk me home. Good day to you, Mr. Granville.” With that, Abbie slid her arm through Finn’s, turning to him with a charming smile. “I’m ready now, Mr. Whitfield.”

  Finn turned away for a second to hide his twitching lips from Abbie, suddenly catching the eye of Mr. Mallory, who had been watching the argument along with every other member of the congregation still in the churchyard. The older man gave Finn a mischievous wink before handing his wife into the wagon. Finn smiled happily. He’d won this round against Granville, and the approval of Mr. Mallory. This was turning out to be a very good day indeed.

  Chapter 24

  The sweetness of Abbie’s lips on his was still fresh in Finn’s mind as he mucked out the stable on Monday morning. He’d been right to appeal to Abbie’s independence of spirit. She was no meek girl who needed to be told what to do. She was feisty and smart, and wanted a man who appreciated that in her. Finn had plenty of experience of feisty women, so he recognized the signs. Neither his mother nor Aunt Louisa liked being told what to do, and they spoke their mind completely unafraid of their husbands. Sometimes Finn had been surprised by the men’s patience. Finn knew plenty of men in Jamestown who would not have hesitated to punish their wives for such impertinence, but his father usually just smiled and heard his mother out with consideration and respect, as did Uncle Kit. Charles’ wife never spoke out against him, but Finn had seen her give Charles a look that stopped him in mid-sentence, so she had the power to influence him as well.

  As Finn got older, he realized that dealing with women was not as straightforward as he expected. They were much more complicated than most men gave them credit for, as Abbie demonstrated yesterday. Knocking the irritating Matthew Granville on his arse had certainly fanned the flames of Abbie’s ardor, with Finn reaping the benefits. She let him kiss her until she was breathless. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes shone with affection as they finally drew apart, reluctantly heading home. They would be missed if they didn’t return soon. Mr. Mallory was no fool. He’d been a young man himself once, and Finn didn’t want to cause offense.

  “Ooooowww,” Jonah yelled as he crumpled onto the barn floor in a heap after jumping off the ladder leading up to the hayloft. “I’ve broken my leg.” He was rolling on the ground clutching his ankle, and whimpering like a little girl.

  “Let me see,” said Finn, prying Jonah’s hands away from his injured leg. Finn gently examined Jonah’s ankle, ignoring his pitiful cries. “You didn’t break it. You just sprained it. Here, let me help you up. That happened to me before. You just need to stay off it for a few days.”

  Jonah gave him a suspicious look. “Are you certain it’s not broken? A broken ankle could take months to heal.” He put a little weight on his leg experimentally, yowling in pain again.

  “I’m certain. Let’s get you back to the house. Your mother will just tell you to lie down and give you something good to eat. That’s what my mother used to do when I hurt myself.” Finn felt his chest constrict at the thought of his mother, so he turned to Jonah, needing something else to focus on. “Lean on me and walk slowly.”

  It took them nearly a half-hour to walk back to the farmhouse. Jonah was walking so slowly, Finn almost wished he could carry him. So, you’ll be joining the Continental Army, you big chicken, Finn thought as he dragged Jonah toward the house. I only hope your brother and his compatriots are more courageous than you, or your whole enterprise is doomed. He was glad to be relieved of his burden, sitting Jonah on a bench as the women gathered around him, clucking like hens. Jonah was given a piece of freshly baked bread, spread with butter and honey, and some chicory coffee to wash it down with. He looked much happier, munching on his breakfast, and enjoying the ministrations of his mother and sisters.

  “Looks like you won’t be coming with me, Jonah,” Mr. Mallory said, walking into the house. He was dressed for traveling, in his best coat and hat, the wagon already outside. “Have you ever been to Williamsburg, Finn?”

  “No, sir. I’d be happy to accompany you if you’re in need of help.” Finn suddenly wanted nothing more than to go to Williamsburg. He longed to see something of this new world he’d landed in, and both Jonah and Abbie had mentioned the town several times. The only town Finn had ever seen was Jamestown, and that had been more of a small settlement, built entirely of wood and punctuated by narrow, muddy streets. Seeing this town they kept talking about would be very interesting.

  “Have you had your breakfast yet?” Finn hadn’t eaten, but he was afraid Mr. Mallory would leave without him. The older man saw his hesitation and laughed. “Eat your fill, son. Williamsburg will still be there two hours from now. I wouldn’t say no to some coffee and porridge myself. It’s getting colder out there, and there’s nothing like warm porridge in your belly on a cold morning.”

  Mr. Mallory took off his coat and hat, sitting down at the table next to Jonah and reaching for the honey as his wife put a bowl of porridge in front of him. Finn was grateful for the chance to eat. He was always hungry, no matter how much he ate. Thankfully, the Mallorys all had good appetites and his gluttony didn’t draw much attention. For a skinny lad, Jonah could put away an incredible amount of food, especially after working all day. Poor Mrs. Mallory seemed to spend most of her time either cooking or doing the washing. Finn had always taken it for granted that his parents had servants, but in the Mallory house, everything was done by Mrs. Mallory and the girls. They worked from dawn till dusk, cooking, washing, baking, mending, and doing some farm chores. Their only free time was the hour or so after supper when they sat companionably by the fire, reading, sewing, or simply talking.

  Finn had noticed a few Negro slaves. Some of them had driven their masters to church, but hadn’t come in. Jonah said they had their own services separate from the white folk. Finn tried not to stare, but he’d never seen Negros, and was fascinated by them. He wondered if they were happy to be rescued from the wilds of Afric
a and brought here to serve white men, or if they were resentful like the Indians, hating the whites who oppressed them. Would there be any Negros in Williamsburg? Did they just walk around the town the way Indians used to stroll through the settlements before the March attack? He wanted to ask Mr. Mallory, but changed his mind. The less ignorance he showed, the better. The man already thought that he came from some backwoods; there was no need to confirm his suspicions. Finn had been educated well and chafed at the notion of being thought ignorant. Either way, the trip to Williamsburg would be an education.

  Chapter 25

  Alec opened his eyes to find the room already bright with morning light. Valerie always insisted on leaving the shutters open, claiming that she felt entombed by the impenetrable darkness. She liked to see moonlight streaming through the window as she fell asleep, and to wake up to a room bathed in sunshine. Alec didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to her eccentricities over the years.

  They’d slept a little later today, probably due to the good food and the comfortable bed. Their inquiries didn’t lead anywhere the day before, but today was another day, and they’d start fresh. Alec had an idea that he wanted to discuss with Valerie, but it could keep until later. He looked over at his sleeping wife. Valerie looked slightly more relaxed after a good night of sleep. She’d been so agitated that he was worried for her. Alec knew she blamed herself. She should have listened to her gut instinct and sent the old man away, but she allowed him to stay, setting off this chain of events. Poor Louisa probably felt even worse, knowing she’d talked Valerie into letting the man stay. Alec could understand her motivation. Had he been in her place, he would have needed time to think things over as well.

  Valerie stirred, opening her eyes and gazing at Alec. She actually smiled, so Alec decided to try his luck and reached for her, pulling her close. They hadn’t made love since the day Finn vanished, and he was hungry for her and the release only her body could provide. He slid his hand up her thigh, but Valerie pushed his hand away. “I’m sorry, Alec. I just can’t. I can’t make love while our son is missing. I hope you understand.” She jumped out of bed, looking for her clothes.

  “Valerie, please come back. This has nothing to do with Finn, and everything to do with us. Making love doesn’t mean that we love him any less. I miss you.” Alec hoped his plea would change Valerie’s mind, but he seemed to aggravate her further. Her movements were jerky as she grabbed her stockings off the chair where they’d been drying by the fire.

  “I just can’t, okay? Rolling around in bed while Finn is God knows where just feels like a betrayal. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s how I feel right now. I simply can’t relax. I feel like a wound-up spring.” She turned her back to him, pulling on stockings and stepping into shoes. Alec didn’t know what a wound-up spring felt like, but he knew that talking to Valerie while she was in this kind of mood was pointless. It wouldn’t get him anywhere.

  Alec had to admit that he felt frustrated with Valerie’s lack of affection. She wasn’t the only one suffering, but sometimes she made him feel as if he didn’t care as much about Finn as she did. As a man, he’d been taught to keep a tight rein on his feelings, and he was doing so now for his wife’s benefit. He didn’t want her to see his panic or helplessness. It would only upset her further. He needed to be strong for her and make her believe that he had some kind of plan, or at least an idea for finding their son. With every day that passed without finding Finn their chances grew slimmer, making Alec feel sick with dread.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, pulling on his own clothes and walking out the door. He needed a drink.

  The taproom was nearly empty at this time of the morning, so Alec took a seat, meaning to order a tankard of ale, but realized just in time that he had no money. That made him even angrier. He felt dejected and miserable, angry at himself, at Valerie, and most of all at Finn for getting himself into this situation. He thought of going for a walk to release some of his frustration, but he didn’t want to worry Valerie by disappearing without a word. He’d just have to wait for her to come downstairs.

  “May I join you?” the man asked, waiting patiently for Alec to reply. Alec didn’t want company at the moment, but it seemed churlish to turn the man down, so he nodded curtly. The man took a seat, signaling the barkeep for drinks. Alec began to protest, but the main raised his hand to silence him. “Allow me to buy you a drink. You seem in need of one.”

  “I suppose I am,” replied Alec. “I’m Alexander Whitfield.”

  “Alfred Hewitt. I was meant to meet someone, but they seem to be running rather late. I thought it would be nicer to have a drink with someone rather than by myself. You’re not from around here, Mr. Whitfield?”

  “Strictly speaking, no,” replied Alec cautiously. He didn’t care to be questioned by the stranger.

  “Have you recently arrived from England, perhaps?” the man asked. Alec had a sudden urge to tell him that he’d lived in Virginia for the past one hundred and fifty years, but fought the impulse. The man would simply think him mad.

  “No, Mr. Hewitt. I live some miles from Jamestown. And what about you? Do you live here in Williamsburg?” He didn’t care where the man lived, but wanted to deflect the man’s interest in his past.

  “No, I come here from time to time to meet with my associates. I don’t spend much time at home since my wife passed, and both my sons are in the Continental Army. Do you have children, Mr. Whitfield?”

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, my wife and I are here looking for our son.” Alec felt strangely reluctant to tell the stranger that Finn was missing, despite the fact that he might know something of his whereabouts.

  “Ran away and joined the army, did he? That’s what half the young men in Virginia are doing these days.” The man finished his ale and set his empty tankard on the table, wiping his mouth delicately with a handkerchief.

  “My son didn’t join the army. He’s too young. Please excuse me, Mr. Hewitt. I must return to my wife, and thank you for the drink.”

  “Good luck finding your boy,” the man called after Alec as he walked out of the taproom.

  **

  Alec and Valerie left the inn shortly after. Neither one mentioned anything about their tiff in the morning, preferring to focus on finding Finn. Valerie liked Alec’s idea, but she needed supplies. Alec suggested that Valerie, who was a proficient artist, draw a likeness of Finn and take it to the printing shop they saw on their way to the inn. They could print some broadsheets and hang them up all over town. Maybe someone, or even Finn himself, would see them and come forward. The idea made Valerie strangely sad, reminding her of the pictures of missing children on milk cartons. Were any of those children ever found? Most likely not.

  Valerie suddenly stopped, catching sight of her reflection in a shop window. She hardly recognized herself. The woman who stared back was rigid with tension, her mouth compressed into a thin line and a deep furrow between her brows. She looked like someone who’d recently suffered bereavement, and was just putting one foot in front of the other in the hope that eventually she would relearn how to walk.

  Valerie was momentarily shocked. This would never do. She was not some weakling who gave up at the first sign of trouble. They hadn’t found Finn yet, but they would. Alec’s idea was a great one. Pictures on milk cartons might not have always worked in a country of millions, but Williamsburg was a town of several thousand inhabitants, so the haystack was considerably smaller, making that needle just a little bit easier to find.

  Valerie straightened her shoulders, forced her face to relax and smiled at her reflection. There, that was better. She looked up at Alec, who was watching her with concern. She’d been selfish and self-absorbed, taking her frustrations out on him when he was trying his best to find Finn while dealing with her grief. She’d make it up to him, just as soon as she got some paper and ink and drew a portrait of their son.

  “How will we pay for the printing, Alec?” Valerie looked over at him, already
concentrating on the details of the plan. They still hadn’t managed to convert their valuables into money. Alec had brought some silver coins, but living in seventeenth-century Virginia, they hadn’t used any currency other than tobacco in years. Anything could be bought or traded for bags of tobacco, so no other money was necessary.

  “I’ll try using some of the coins I have from the past. You heard what Carson said. People prefer silver to paper money, so they might be eager to take the silver coins, even if they are out of date. It’s worth a try. If that doesn’t work, there’s a jeweler’s shop just down the street. I’ll see what the proprietor is willing to pay for my ring. Don’t worry, Valerie. I’ll see to it.”

  “I know you will.” She was already looking for a place to buy some paper and ink. She supposed they should try the Post Office since they were sure to find some paper there. They would also need some quills. A quill wasn’t ideal for drawing a portrait, but it would have to do. At least it would provide clean lines, which would show up well on the printed copies. Valerie slid her arm through Alec’s as they walked down the Duke of Gloucester Street. She had to admit that she actually felt better. Taking action was always the best antidote to helplessness.

  Chapter 26

  Finn looked around with undisguised curiosity as the wagon rumbled into Williamsburg. He’s never seen a city this size before. Some of the buildings were made of wood, but were built in a different style than the ones he saw in seventeenth century Jamestown. Several others were tall and imposing, made of red brick and punctuated by large windows, now blazing in the brilliant morning sun. They passed the church and the Court House as they made their way down the Duke of Gloucester Street. Finn gaped at the glass storefronts as the wagon made slow progress down the congested street. He’d never seen so many shops. They sold all kinds of wonderful things; things that he would have loved to explore at length.