Whiskers In The Dark

26

October 19, 1787

Friday

“Your brother wished for you to have this.” Jeffrey handed Charles a lovely wooden box, the inlaid wood shining.

The two men sat together in Charles’s parlor, having enjoyed a light midafternoon meal prepared by Rachel with Bettina’s help. Rachel left to help Catherine write out some of their father’s correspondence and to allow the two men time alone.

Charles carefully unhooked the brass latch, opening the box to find a mate to the beautiful Nicolas-Noël Boutet pistol his father had given him.

“Oh,” Charles exclaimed as he lifted the work of art from its housing.

“The Baron knew you had forfeited your pistol to John Schuyler when he captured you. He thought this would please you.”

Charles grinned. “Wait until John sees this.” Then he rubbed his forefinger on the rich wood of the flintlock. It was accurate. When one pays that much for a weapon, it had better be, and his late father had paid plenty.

Jeffrey, happy to have made Charles happy, said, “I never understood how you and the major could become so close, but now after my duel with Yancy Grant, I somewhat understand.”

“John originally thought we were lucky to be living. You can imagine. But he knew the Articles of War, and he treated my men and me with respect, even on the march from Saratoga to here, now the prisoner of war camp.” Charles shook his head. “I have never been so cold in my life.”

“I saw it once. Delivered a chest for the wife of the commandant. All those cabins, wooden chimneys, and the rooftops, evergreens. I suppose the needles were to keep out the snow.”

“Well, Piglet and I snuggled up each night.” Charles reached down to pet his devoted, aging corgi. “But I give my captors credit. When I approached the guard with the suggestion of thatching the roofs—that we could do it because no one here really knew how—he took me to the commandant, who seemed relieved, actually, that there might be a way for more protection from the elements. He had no money. The Continental Congress had none, nor did the colony of Virginia.”

“I certainly saw many thatched roofs in England. I liked them, actually.”

“Well, my men and I found reeds, mostly in lowlands near the camp, and we thatched our roof. Then the other fellows did it, those who could. Kept the rain out and the snow. The next thing was cutting firewood. I remember a Hessian from another cabin sneaking over to steal some of our firewood. We caught him and thrashed him worse than we would have thrashed a colonial.” Charles laughed.

“Having seen where you were raised, I would imagine we do appear barbaric,” Jeffrey remarked.

Charles quickly replied, “I do not feel that. Are there castles and kings, are there the great piazzas such as exist in Italy or estates of twenty and thirty thousand acres owned by dukes, no. But the homes in Philadelphia are graceful. I hear Charleston is beautiful, and even Richmond, a bit less refined perhaps, contains touches of elegance.”

Jeffrey brightened. “Technically you and I are brothers now.”

Charles tapped his forefinger on Jeffrey’s hand. “A good addition to the family. I am grateful that you and your wife have rescued my brother. That’s the only word I can use. ‘Rescued.’ Our father, a man of immense charm and sociability, left us in tatters, as you know. Well, insolvent, as he did inherit the title.”

Jeffrey leaned back in the comfortable chair. “My wife sets such a store by such things. Lord Holloway. If anyone would call me that, I would be embarrassed.”

“I doubt any Virginian will, but when you leave our country, you will be so addressed.”

“Maureen insists I have your family’s coat of arms painted on our carriage, on everything, engraved on the silver. My God.” Jeffrey couldn’t help himself.

“Ah well, she was raised where such things still matter.”

“I saw where she was raised. More splendor, which she has reproduced at Big Rawly. She was educated in France.”

“Yes.” Charles smiled, for Maureen spoke impeccable French, as did he. “You didn’t cross the Channel?”

“We didn’t visit France. Maureen, who keeps up with foreign developments, judged it not a good time to see her old friends there. She says the dismissal of the Assembly of Notables in May was unwise. Your brother, when this was discussed, called them the Assembly of Not Ables.”

Charles laughed. “He would, but they didn’t do anything anyway. I can’t see a dismissal as much to worry about, but, then, I am here and very grateful to be here.”

“You don’t miss it?”

“Oh, I miss the shires sometimes. I miss Oxford. I don’t really miss London at all. Every time I would visit, which my father insisted upon for our social education, if you will, I found the city had grown even more. People everywhere. I’m not meant to sit in soirees.”

“Yes, well, I now understand.” Jeffrey smiled. “Italy proved a revelation. I tried to remember my school Latin, but the light, the color of the homes, the furniture”—he paused, blushing slightly—“I will ever be a cabinetmaker. I was enchanted.”

“Business is good?”

“My wife has had that large shop built for me, encouraged me to hire specialized labor. The orders pour in.” He paused. “And you?”

“The work at St. Luke’s has brought me attention. I’ve received a commission to design a home along the James outside of Scottsville. I will take you to St. Luke’s. I would like for you to see it.”

“I would like to see it. I can’t speak for Maureen. She is a dedicated Catholic, which means she likes the ritual. What she believes, I couldn’t say.”

“Ah well, perhaps none of us can really understand any church. I read my catechism—oh yes, Church of England has catechism. I still don’t know what it’s about, although I can recite the Nicene Creed by heart.”

They both laughed.

The clock struck five o’clock. The late-afternoon light streaked across the land like butter.

“I have taken up too much of your time. I’d better find DoRe and we can drive home before twilight. I assume he is visiting your cook.” Jeffrey smiled.

“Or she him. When DoRe and Barker O are together, they can talk.” Charles again opened the box to admire the pistol. “Thank you for this.”

“I am merely the messenger. Your brother wished to restore the mate to the one John has as the spoils of war. He knew how you valued it.”

“My father gave me an excellent education, a Continental tour, clothing, but he wasn’t much for gifts to his sons. He didn’t want us to become, in his words, effeminate. I don’t think either Hugh or I was in danger, but he gave me the pistol when I left for the Army. I wasn’t close to my father, but I liked him. Does that sound strange to you, having worked with your father?”

“One sees the distance with many sons. Then again, fathers are often absent. I call upon my father often for help in my work. He is astonishingly good, you know, and I don’t say that because he is my father, but he can put his hands on a piece of wood and feel it.”

Charles smiled. “A gift. You possess it, too.” He rose and Jeffrey rose with him.

As they walked to the door, Jeffrey confided in him. “There was an unfortunate incident at Big Rawly yesterday.”

“Elizabetta.”

“How do you know?”

“Word travels fast.”

Jeffrey nodded. “I believe the slaves have ways to reach one another of which we know nothing. Bad as it was, it is settled and that will never happen again.” Then he paused again, cleared his throat. “You have been married a few years now.”

“To the best woman on earth.” Charles lit up.

“Certainly a woman of great beauty and uncommon sweetness. Her mother must have been a beauty.”

“I never met Isabelle, but Yancy Grant declared she was a breathtaking beauty, which her daughters reflect, but he also said she possessed an intense allure. His very word, ‘intense.’ ”

Jeffrey smiled. “Charles, yours is a good marriage.”

“It is.”

“Do you understand women?”

A burst of laughter followed this question. “No. Does any man? I love my wife. I worship my wife. Do I understand her, no, but”—he took a deep breath—“I believe she understands me and sometimes better than I understand myself.”

A look of relief crossed Jeffrey’s face. “I see.”

Charles slapped him on the back as he still laughed. “Brother, don’t even try.”

They talked about Florence, about how restorative it is to finally come to one’s own home. They walked to the stables where DoRe sat with Barker O, a basket of food in front of him, for Bettina had also been visiting before returning to the house. Charles and Jeffrey shook their heads about both of their wives swooning over fabrics.

When Jeffrey climbed up next to DoRe on the light, lovely, one-horse carriage, he looked down at Charles, smiled, and tipped his hat. “Thank you, brother.”

Charles touched his forehead with his finger. “The pleasure was mine, brother.”