Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (22 page)

Mrs. Hardinbrook smirked, entirely missing the implication that she could be included in Mother’s judgment.

Elizabeth’s face flushed and her lips thinned into nonexistence. For a few awful seconds she looked astonishingly like Mother during one of her rages. Father’s eye fell upon her, though, and he solemnly winked. Her anger subsided at this reminder not to take anything that Mother said seriously. They had had plenty of opportunity to practice such silent communication and once again it had spared us from a lengthy row.

Beldon had noticed—for he was always alert to what was going on around him—and visibly relaxed. Whenever Mother became unduly upset it always fell to him to calm her down. His bottle of laudanum had proved to be handy in the past, but as a good doctor he was reluctant to rely on it for every ill happening in the house. I’d seen more than one opium eater ruining himself at Cambridge, so on that point he and I were in accord.

“I saw Mr. Finch’s eldest earlier,” he said. “While waiting for his father, he acquainted me with the family’s misfortunes.”

“Hmm,” grunted Father discouragingly, unwilling to speak of business at the table.

“Mostly just to pass the time, I fear. A decent young man, but dull.” Beldon had caught the hint and made his tone of voice lazy and bored, as though it were hardly worth the effort to speak. “He mentioned some other things as well. Tedious stuff,” he added. “Most tedious.”

He’d struck just the right balance between getting his message across yet not arousing anyone’s curiosity. Mother and Mrs. Hardinbrook duly ignored him, having no interest in farmers’ gossip.

Father looked up. Beldon met his gaze briefly, then contemplated the wallpaper beyond. I could almost hear Father say “damnation” to himself. He grunted again and nodded at Beldon, then at me. This meant we were to both come to the library after the meal.

Silence reigned after that. The heat was too much for even Mother to maintain a dialogue of her many grievances for long. She turned down a thick slab of hot pie and excused herself. She usually had a nap in her room at this time of day. No one hindered her exit.

Mrs. Hardinbrook was a woman with an appetite that no amount of summer heat could ruin. She had her pie with an ample slice of cheese on the side, and an extra glass of wine. Groaning under that load she would certainly follow Mother’s example and snore away the rest of the afternoon. One by one, the rest of us excused ourselves and left.

Elizabeth had been the first out and waited for us in the library. She’d also caught Father’s signal and was interested to hear Beldon’s news. Such informal gatherings had been called before; Beldon questioned her presence only once. He ventured that the gentle nature of her sex justified her exclusion from “business” but the tart reply she gave to his suggestion swiftly altered his view of her.

Father settled him in his chair, Elizabeth and I took over the settee, and Beldon perched on a windowsill to take advantage of the breeze. Something of a dandy, he sported his wig at all times and in all weathers no matter how uncomfortable it must have been. He flicked a handkerchief from his sleeve and mopped at the shining beads drenching his forehead.

“Tell me what you heard,” Father instructed without preamble.

Beldon did so. “This is rumor, mind you, but young Roddy trusted the source.”

“What source?”

“Some sergeant working with the commissaries. He was at The Oak and boasting about his successful collections. Roddy and Nathan Finch were keeping quiet in a corner and heard him talk about how the commissaries were not going to content themselves with waiting for the farmers to come to them. He did not mention what they were planning, but it seems obvious that they will start visiting individual households next and making more direct collections.”

Father snorted. “Wholesale thievery is what it will be.”

Beldon smiled unpleasantly. “They’ve dug themselves in well enough. They’re familiar with the country and people by now and will be sharp to see anything suspicious.”

Elizabeth had kept up on events. “You mean if anyone is hiding livestock or grain from them?”

“Exactly, Miss Barrett. They’ll rake over this island like a nor’easter and take what they please—all in the king’s name, of course, and the devil for the people they take from, begging your pardon.”

“How is it that you know how they work?”

He paused, held in place by Elizabeth’s penetrating look. Nothing less than the truth would suffice for her and he must have known it. “From ’57 to ’59, I had the honor of serving under General James Wolfe during the campaign against the French,” he said matter-of-factly.

We glanced at one another, brows raised and questions blooming at this revelation. This was news.

“You served in the army?” asked Father after a moment.

“Yes,” he said shortly. “Wasn’t much older than your son here at the time.”

He’d not intended to surprise us, otherwise the toady in him might have provided a greater flourish for such a piece of information. For the first time I began to wonder if just possibly the toad-eating might be a pretense. When a man is thought to be a harmless buffoon, other men discount him as a threat and drop their guard. I’d seen such in others while at school, and they were never called out to duel. Interesting, were it true.

“Why have you never mentioned this before?” asked Father, when he’d recovered from giving Beldon a wondering reappraisal. Elizabeth and I had unabashedly mimicked him.

Beldon’s mouth curled inward as though he regretted imparting his history. “It happened a long time ago, sir. It is not one of my happier memories and I beg that none of you mention it to my sister. Deborah, as you may have noticed, enjoys talking and I fear she may try everyone’s patience with the subject.”

It abruptly occurred to me that Mrs. Hardinbrook knew nothing about this chapter of Beldon’s life, else she would have long ago spoken of it in the hope of making him more attractive to Elizabeth. Recounting the exploits of a war hero would have been irresistible to her—unless Beldon had not been particularly heroic.

I pushed that unworthy and dishonorable speculation aside. Some of Father’s friends had also been involved in that great conflict and were equally reticent about their experiences. Whatever reason Beldon had for keeping quiet would be respected.

Similar thoughts may have rushed through Father’s mind, for he said, “You have our word that we shall say nothing to your sister or anyone else, Doctor.” A quick look to each of us guaranteed our nodding agreement to this promise. “Now tell us what we should expect from these soldiers.”

“More of the same, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Beldon. “No one would suffer overmuch from their collections if they were honest enough to pay good coin for what they take, but we’ve seen proof that that is unlikely to happen. My suggestion is we send word to the citizenry hereabouts to start preparing new and very secret spots to conceal their excess. Have a portion set aside to be taken away, some portion placed in their usual storage places and hide the rest, which should be the greater part of a household’s supply. Each house should have several such stores in case one is discovered or even betrayed.”

“Deception against the king’s soldiers?” Father mocked.

“Defense against the jackals professing to serve those soldiers,” Beldon countered, referring to the commissaries. “They serve only themselves and will continue to do so. I’ve seen their like before and no amount of feeding will sate their appetite for money. General Howe can chase Washington and his rabble from one colony to another until winter comes to freeze the lot of them to perdition, but these fellows have no such distractions. They will continue their plunders in the king’s name until nothing remains.”

No one of us could doubt that. In his many letters to me, Father had often mentioned what a prize Long Island would be should things come to a full-blown rebellion. In July we heard talk that Washington planned to send men through the counties to drive all the cattle and sheep they found into the eastern end of the island and shoot the herds to keep them out of British hands. Not surprisingly, this was met with strong opposition, and from his own men. They were not terribly anxious to confront the Loyalist owners of the stock. It seemed that earlier efforts to disarm these citizens had failed. They’d made it clear to the rebels that they were entirely prepared to defend themselves and their property from Congressional thieves.

Washington fumed, the New York convention stalled, and in the meantime General Howe’s brother, Vice-Admiral Richard, Lord Howe, arrived with his hundred-fifty ships crammed full of hungry soldiers. Washington’s attention became engaged elsewhere. Later, General Howe made his landing at Gravesend Bay and saved the king’s loyal subjects from the threat of ravaging rebels.

Unfortunately, he had scant interest in saving them from his own men.

“We’ll have to have a meeting,” I said. “Perhaps at the church after services. It’s the best way for everyone to hear it all.”

“Aye, including the soldiers, I think,” said Father, reminding me of the new additions to our congregation. Some of us still hadn’t determined whether the men were there to worship God or to make sure sedition was not being preached. “This is the stuff that charges of treason are made of. They’ll think we’re conspiring with those rascals over in Suffolk County rather than looking out for our own.”

Instantly, I jumped to an alternative. “Then we’ll call upon only those we trust and inform them directly.”

Father’s eyes glinted. “Which means there’s nothing in writing that may be held against us. I think you’ve a talent for this, laddie.”

I couldn’t help but grin. Having grown used to the physical and mental stimulus of Cambridge, I sorely missed a challenge; this business promised to be rare entertainment. It might also prove to be much more interesting than those old university amusements, which chiefly consisted of getting drunk whenever the chance presented itself. “I can start at first light tomorrow.”

“But not alone. Dr. Beldon, do you not go on mercy calls?”

“You know I do, sir,” he said, wiping his brow once more, then pausing as he pondered the reason for Father’s query.

“I think you should go with Jonathan on his errands.”

I started to ask why Beldon’s company was necessary and bit it off as comprehension dawned. A doctor had an infinite number of reasons to be riding from house to house. Beldon’s profession would provide us with excellent cover should we be questioned by suspicious folk, whether they be rebels or soldiers in the king’s army.

“Very good, sir,” said Beldon wryly, understanding and approving.

“And what shall
I
do?” Elizabeth gently demanded. She clearly wanted to go with us, but the unsettled state of things abrogated her unspoken wish. She, too, had heard of the outrages and was not so foolish to think herself immune to such insults.

“With Jonathan gone I shall need you to help me with the work here,” said Father. “You write faster and more clearly than he does, anyway.” I took no umbrage at Father’s opinion of my penmanship, for it was true.

Elizabeth’s archness vanished. She enjoyed helping Father and had done so in the past. Mother disapproved, of course—for it was not ladylike to play the clerk—but not so much as to forbid it.

“Between us I want to plan out how to conceal the surplus to last through the winter. I’m keeping in mind that we may have more than our own to feed. Your mother”—here he paused as though trying to overcome an indigestible bite from his last meal— “has written to those cousins of hers offering them asylum until the rebellion is past. They have yet to reply, but we will have to be prepared. We’ll need a second buttery, someplace to store the smoked meats. . .”

“Flour, sugar, spirits, yes.” Elizabeth’s face lightened. “I shall talk with Mrs. Nooth and Jericho. We’ll have more hidden treasure than Captain Kidd.”

“If I might recommend one more suggestion,” said Beldon. “That is, I’m sure dear Deborah would be mightily interested in offering her assistance to you, but she is, after all, a rather busy lady.”

This was met with another awkward moment of silence, then Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, Dr. Beldon. I believe it would be better not to disturb her or Mother with such mundane chores as these will doubtless prove to be.”

Beldon looked relieved. And so he was able to politely pass on his lack of confidence that his sister could hold her tongue in the wrong company.

* * *

“
He’s not such a bad fellow, is he?” Elizabeth said as we strolled slowly around the outside of the house in the somewhat cooler air of the early evening.

“Beldon? I suppose not. I think he’d be better off without her, though.” There was no need to mention the lady’s name.

“Wouldn’t we all?”

A few steps to the side of us, Jericho stifled something that might be interpreted as a cough. Or a laugh. It was quite a display from a man who took so much pride in a lofty household station that often demanded great reticence. However, he was away from the house and treading the same grounds we’d tumbled over as rowdy children; he could allow himself to be himself to some extent. We could not go back to those days, but the memory was with us and comforting company.

“I think that staying here has been a beneficial experience for him,” she said.

“In what way?”

“He’s allowed the chance to be with a less demanding company of people, for one thing.”

“He was hardly in isolation in Philadelphia.”

“Yes, but his social life was certainly limited, if Mother and that woman are anything to judge by. Like attracts like, y’know.”

I had no trouble imagining Beldon surrounded by a large group made up of the sort of people Mother would approve of, and shuddered.

“Since you’ve returned I’ve looked at him as though through your eyes and noticed that he’s not the toad-eater he was at first.”

“I’ve noticed no change.”

“That’s because you avoid him.”

True.

“When he’s away from her he can be quite nice.”

“Good God, you’re not thinking of—”