Читать книгу Nancy Whiskey - Laurel Ames - Страница 11

Trueblood and Nancy came in the kitchen entrance to Mrs. Cook’s, Nancy carrying her basketful of lemons and packets from the apothecary shop, and Trueblood burdened with parcels from the butcher’s.

“I thought this was supposed to be a free country where a person could speak her mind,” Nancy argued. She plunked the basket on the table, tore at the ribbons on her bonnet and tossed the headgear carelessly aside.

“Not on the public street and not in front of a crowd sympathetic to Genet. Had I not been with you, I do not know what would have happened to you,” Trueblood returned.

Mrs. Cook held her finger to her lips, warning them that the ill maids were asleep.

“It is stupid, this worship for a man who is no better than a pirate himself. Fitting up privateers, indeed!” Nancy whispered urgently.

“I cannot like the way you speak out in public against Genet, not with this French mania that has seized the people of Philadelphia. Washington himself is not safe from them.”

“I give him a lot of credit for not fleeing the city,” Mrs. Cook said, wagging her head as she stirred a kettle on the huge iron crane overhanging the fire.

“Were he to do so the government itself might fall,” Trueblood said.

“Washington has the courage to stand his ground,” Nancy declared as she removed a kettle of steaming water from one of the hearth trivets.

“He is the president. It is his job to take abuse.”

“Should I rather lie and pretend to favor this stupid talk of war with England?”

“Nancy, dear,” Mrs. Cook interjected, trying to mediate. “Are you sure you do not feel this way because you have so lately come from England?”

“Well, of course, I still have loyalties to England. That is no small part of my abhorrence for the present insanity. But looking at it objectively, it is stupid for a country to be drawn into a conflict where no offense has been given to it and there is nothing to be gained from fighting.”

“Hold whatever views you like.” Trueblood shook his finger at her. “Simply do not speak of them in the street.”

Nancy shrugged and began to unload her basket. She neither wished to argue with Trueblood nor discomfit him, but she had a certain contempt for his powerless state where she was concerned. If Daniel had caught her taunting a mob of street rabble he would have…What? She contemplated the prospect of him tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her home, and was disturbed that the fantasy held so much appeal for her.

“Nancy, why are you so quiet?” Trueblood asked with foreboding.

“There is no point in talking to you while you are angry,” she said, measuring some herbs into the teapot and adding hot water.

“I am not angry with you. I am afraid for you.”

“I would not concern myself if I were you. If things go on as they have been, this Philadelphia rabble will succumb to a force more powerful than France, England and America combined.”

“Yes, the yellow fever is getting worse by the day,” Mrs. Cook agreed.

“Another reason you should keep to the house, since you are unwilling to take refuge outside the city,” Trueblood argued.

“Not if there is work to be done here.”

“Daniel would be extremely displeased.”

“What has Daniel to say in the matter?” she asked with a pretense of coldness as she began to slice the lemons.

“He left me with the admonition to take care of you.”

“I should not be your responsibility, either.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Stir this, Trueblood,” Mrs. Cook commanded as she went to check on the invalids.

Trueblood obeyed distractedly. “Nevertheless, Daniel asked it of me and I have never failed him.”

“Really? Never?”

Trueblood thought for a moment, then turned an irritated gaze upon her. “Nancy, do not try to distract me.”

“Where do you suppose he -is now?” Nancy asked aloud. As often as she posed the question to Mrs. Cook, the kitchen maids or even the wall, Trueblood never failed to answer if he was within hearing.

“He has been gone a month. Most likely he is on his way back by now.”

“You say he made it there and back in as little as a month?” Nancy asked, as though Daniel’s arrival put a time limit on how long she had to cure the yellow-fever epidemic.

“And never more than six weeks.”

She sat down on the kitchen stool and stared wistfully out the window. “Is it a very dangerous trip?”

“Not anymore.”

“I know I should not worry about him. How many times has he made the trip?”

“Not more than fifty. Whereas your father has never done it before. Here he has gone off with Dupree, and you have never asked after his safety.” Nancy turned and smiled at him. “What an unnatural daughter I am.”

“If we are speaking of unnatural, Riley wrests you from your home, dumps you on a foreign shore and leaves you to fend for yourself, and with precious little money, is my guess.”

“Oh, I have some of my own. Uncle gave me all the gold and silver coin he had by him. He reckoned it would be enough to buy my passage home if I should need to.”

“In other words he had your father’s measure. I hope you keep it in a safe place.”

“It is sewn into the hem of my best petticoat.”

“Good idea.”

“I got it from a soldier’s wife—the idea, not the petticoat. I have read over all your books again,” she said, pulling a volume across the table to her, “and there is nothing here to help with this yellow fever.”

“It would appear they either survive it or not.”

“Yes, and that there is precious little we can do.”

“So I have concluded.”

“If I should get the fever, Trueblood, I don’t wish to be bled. That is not the answer.”

“I will not let the leeches get you, Nancy girl. I still wish you would let me take you to Champfreys, in Maryland. My mother and sister would love to have you, and it would guarantee that Daniel would go home.”

“How could I leave Mrs. Cook in such a fix, with both her girls down with the fever?”

“Prudence is well nigh over it.”

“But not much use yet. If she overdoes it now, she may have a relapse, and Tibby is still in danger. Why in the summer, Trueblood?”

“What?”

“The fever. Why only in the summer?”

“Bad air from the swamps.”

“Why do we not all get it, then?”

“That may come.”

Nancy pushed the book shut in defeat, but the cover flopped open to the flyleaf. It was a gift from Sir Farnsbey at Oxford.

She wondered why Trueblood had been the one sent to school and not Daniel, until she recollected what had been going on then. The rift between Daniel and his father went as far back as ‘77, when the sixteen-year-old Daniel, according to Trueblood, had left home after a blazing argument with his father to join the rebel army. No doubt Trueblood had been shipped off to England to turn him into a staunch Loyalist and to remove him from Daniel’s influence. It had not worked, of course. For Trueblood had managed to get back into the country and rejoin Daniel by 1780. Now his greatest loyalty was to his brother, and that lent Daniel a great deal of credit in Nancy’s eyes. If only he valued himself as Trueblood did.

When Daniel wandered into the kitchen the next day, Nancy, Trueblood and Mrs. Cook were all so intently watching a kettle simmering upon a pile of coals on the hearth that they did not immediately perceive he was not the boy hired to cut wood until he did not deposit any in the box under the window.

“Daniel!” Nancy leaped up and ran to him. She had just enough command of herself to merely embrace him and pull him toward a chair at the table, rather than kiss him as she would have liked to do. “You look so tired. I have some soup hot over the fire. Sit down. Tell us about your journey.”

“Double, double toil and trouble,” Daniel chanted as he sat down tiredly. “Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Nancy laughed as she carried a steaming pot to the table and got down a bowl. “I suppose we do look like a trio of witches stirring a most unpromising brew.”

“I sincerely hope that is not what you are planning on feeding me, for the reek of it reached me halfway down the street.”

“Not unless you feel yourself to be coming down with the fever, for it is a rather potent purgative.”

“I was hoping this house had been spared. Trueblood, you should have taken Miss Riley away from here.” Daniel touched the chicken broth to his lips, then sipped it gratefully, looking about for bread just as Nancy pushed a loaf toward him.

“I did suggest it, little brother.”

“How could you think I would desert Mrs. Cook?”

“Not you, too, mistress?” Daniel paused to look his landlady over thoughtfully.

“Yes, but I am better now. It was Nancy and Trueblood who pulled me through it. Prudence as well.”

“Now if we can just save Tibby,” Nancy said, going to stare at the infusion in the kettle.

“Since it appears that those who survive are those through whom it passes the quickest, your idea of purging it may make the most sense,” Trueblood said. “But why intersperse the doses of rhubarb with the Peruvian bark?”

“Only because it works for the ague. And I cannot believe the two diseases are unrelated. The symptoms vary, but the causes are the same.”

“The fetid swamps,” Mrs. Cook said, drawing the great wooden spoon out and sniffing it.

“Do you mind?” Daniel asked.

“Sorry, Daniel. Are we disgusting you?” Nancy went and got a chunk of cooked beef from the larder and sliced it for him. He laid a thick piece on his bread and ate the two with one hand while he dipped up soup with the other. It made Nancy wonder how long he had gone without eating, and if he had done so to hurry back to her. She sat down to stare at him and only realized she must be smiling vacantly when he spoke with his mouth full.

“Yes. Moreover, I think you are enjoying mucking about with your herbs.”

“I am not. I would rather no one ever got sick.”

“But it gives you a great deal of importance when they do.” Daniel tore another chunk off the loaf of bread.

“That’s not true. I only want to feel useful. Someone must take care of the sick.”

“I am surprised you have not hired yourself out to the hospitals.” Since this pronouncement produced a dead silence, Daniel could only think that Nancy had been performing some such service. “If that isn’t the outside of enough.” His fist hit the table. “Well, pack your bags, Miss Riley. I am about to escort you to meet your esteemed papa.”

“I will not be hauled away like a child.”

“Even if he sent for you?”

“You have seen him?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, and he commissioned me to take you to Pittsburgh. He has bought an inn. Not much of one, but I take it he is in need of someone to manage it.”

“Manage it? Me? But what is he doing?”

“Running the still.”

“Oh, yes, of course. When do we set out?”

“Two days, if I can manage it.”

“But that is plenty of time. By then Prudence will be able to help nurse Tibby.”

“How convenient for you.” Daniel wolfed the rest of his food and retired to his room, leaving Nancy and Trueblood in the kitchen, writing out their cures for Mrs. Cook.

“Damn!” Nancy said impatiently as she stepped out of one shoe and looked back to see it mired in the crossing. She hopped precariously on one foot, holding up her plain work skirt with the hand carrying the basket as she turned and reached down to pull the shoe free without muddying her stocking. Suddenly she was scooped up by a strong pair of arms, and was just about to raise her voice in complaint when she realized it was Daniel. She did not hit him with the muddy shoe, but wrapped her arm about his neck instead.

“When I recommended these lodgings to you, I did not think you meant to hire yourself out as a servant to Mrs. Cook.”

“What on earth do you mean? I have only been helping since the maids have been ill. You can put me down now.” Nancy stared about her to see if she knew any of the pedestrians.

“If I do you will only go on about the marketing. I am taking you back to Mrs. Cook’s.”

“But that is where I was going. I was just leaving a fever medicine at the Nortons’.”

Daniel hesitated. “Is one of them ill?”

“One of the servants. Your friend has sent Elise and the girls to his plantation. He even offered to send me there for a visit.”

“Which you declined in your high-handed way, I suppose.” Daniel continued carrying her along the pathway, oblivious to stares from what few people still dared walk the streets.

“I wish you would put me down, Daniel,” Nancy said, but without conviction. “You are causing a spectacle.”

“Nothing like the spectacle of you exposing yourself up to the knee to fetch that shoe out of the mud.”

“A gentleman would not have looked.”

“Any man would have looked, even one staggering about with the fever.”

“But what will people think?” Nancy asked, blushing at the backhanded compliment.

“That you have sprained your ankle. At least that is the story I suggest, but you are so inventive I am sure you can come up with something better.”

They were within a block of home, so she left off arguing and thought about the strong arms under her thighs and around her back. “Norton seemed surprised you had not been to see him yet,” she taunted.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing much, just raised one eyebrow in that way he has of indicating he cannot quite credit his senses.”

“I was on my way to see him now. I shall tell him you detained me.”

“I do not think that will surprise him,” Nancy said, somewhat gratified that Daniel thought her safety of more moment than reporting to Norton.

“What? Bye the bye, are you packed yet?”

“Daniel, I am always packed.”

“Yes, if the British attacked, you would be the only one poised to embark on a war. Here we are at Mrs. Cook’s. See that you are ready to leave on a moment’s notice.”

“Well, Daniel?” Norton asked a half hour later as Daniel stood brooding over a small glass of brandy.

“You sound like Trueblood.”

“That sounds like an accusation. I did not look for you for a week yet.”

“I got back late yesterday.”

“Rough trip?”

“Did you get any of my letters?”

“One. I swear, you may as well carry the mail. You do about as well as the post riders sometimes.”

“I dislike sending information that way.”

“You worry too much. It would never occur to the backwoods rabble that they have a spy among them. What pompous nonsense are they about now?”

“Well, they’ve burned one of the tax collectors,” Daniel said.

“What?”

“In effigy, that is.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Norton asked.

“Every inn and tavern is rife with talk of rebellion,” Daniel added.

“Then an insurrection is imminent.”

“Not immediately, and perhaps not at all, if something could be done to lessen the severity of the tax.”

“Quickly, you mean? Not likely. Most of the representatives have fled. The government is scattered from here to Virginia.”

“The president?”

“Will not leave, for the moment. It is the only thing preventing a mass exodus from the city.”

“Washington must be able to do something.”

“The law is the law. He cannot give any dispensations, even if he would. And the debts must be paid. Speaking of pay, when is the last time you had any money for your services?”

“I do not recall, but it does not matter. I never did it for that.”

“I have never been quite sure why you do it, Daniel. I am only glad that you do.”

“If only they had increased the taxes on imports it would have hit these rich city merchants in the purse, not the poor wretches on the frontier. They have nothing but the bit of whiskey they make. To tax it is inhuman, especially for the small producers.”

“Compassion for the enemy, Daniel? That is likely to get you killed.”

“They are not the enemy. They are our countrymen. Whether they remain so is another matter.”

“You have found something.”

“You remember us speaking of Dupree?”

“Yes.”

“He has met with Bradford—twice, to my knowledge.”

“Is Bradford in the pay of the French?”

“If he is they have most likely offered him something else.”

“What?”

“Possibly governorship of the area, once it is no longer part of America.”

“Do they mean to send troops?”

“I believe they mean to make the insurgents do all the killing themselves…and the dying.”

“Why do they need France then?”

“They do not, but they do not realize that. I am wondering if there are other Duprees at work up and down the length of the frontier.”

“Other than Michaux, the botanist, you mean? Do we have time to find out?”

“I suppose Trueblood and I could scour the frontier.”

“That would take too long. I think it a better use of your time to keep your finger on the pulse of Pittsburgh and surroundings, but I do not like to run you ragged going back and forth. Are you sure you cannot trust your dispatches to the mail?”

“I am taking Trueblood with me this time. One or the other of us can bring news.”

“Why did you not take him with you last time?”

“I had work for him here.”

“More important work than this?” Norton raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Daniel opened his mouth to protest that his brother no longer worked for the government, but Norton waved a hand and said, “Do not explain. I have a feeling I know what you are going to say. Spare me.”

Nancy pulled the candle across the large kitchen table and reread the letter from her aunt, who urged her, at the slightest inconvenience, to use the money her uncle had given her to book passage on the next returning ship. Nancy only hoped that Aunt Jane never found out that her ship had been captured by a privateer and that she had been nursing yellow-fever victims. A fine adventure and some useful experience, but aunts never saw such things that way. England was so far away. With any luck, they would never hear about the plague. Nancy sharpened her pen and composed her mind to write a comforting last letter before she began her journey to Pittsburgh.

Dear Aunt Jane,

You talk as though this is a wilderness. I assure you Philadelphia is quite civilized. Why, they even have hospitals here. And I have been to the theater and any number of other entertainments. I even dined with the French ambassador, and he kissed my hand. But enough of my society fling.

Tomorrow we set out for Pittsburgh, the roughness of which I am sure has been exaggerated. I have heard there are nearly two hundred houses there. Surely there are genteel folk among them. You need not worry about the journey. I travel under the protection of a family of merchants Papa and I met on the ship. What could be more fortuitous than that they run a regular trade with Pittsburgh? Papa has gone ahead and bought us a quaint inn. I can scarcely wait to see it. I will write you from my new home, unless there is an opportunity to mail a letter along the way.

With all my love,

Nancy