Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her whalebone stays, jostled by the movements of her efficient, if not entirely comfortable, Berlin carriage. Certainly, the accoutrements inside: silk cushions, down padded seats, and ample room to stretch her legs, were more than adequate, but like most other things in her life, she found it like she found her stays: confining. Her off white flowered robe anglaise, wrinkled, no doubt, in the five hours they had traveled since breakfast, was pulled, along with her petticoats, up to her calves, her stockinged feet free for now of the Louis heels she'd cast to the floor as she propped her ankles up on the opposite bench beside Sukey. She fidgeted her toes inside her thin white silk stockings, watching them wriggle beneath the fabric. She stared at the book in her lap, the fifth she'd read along this particular journey, too anxious to open its pages.
Then she exhaled, audibly. She squished her right pannier slightly when she shifted to the right and tilted her head to look out the window at the passing fields and trees, longing to be sat on a blanket on or beneath any one of them, instead of stuck in what she'd taken to calling "that cursed box," in the two weeks they'd been traveling to Long Island from Virginia.
Behind them, at a slower pace, came a second carriage, carrying most of her trunks, manned by Phillip and attended by Sadie. Charlotte could see them occasionally when she looked out the window, several hundred yards behind. She pulled absentmindedly at one of the thick, spiral accent curls that wasn't pinned to the modest, afternoon updo at the back of her head, one of a few Sukey had left loose for decoration. She let go and it sprung back into place. When she reached for it again, Sukey leaned across for her hand and took it gently, pulling it away from her head as a direction to stop, placing it in her lap.
She and Sukey had been together so long they could communicate over several long hours with one another without so much as a word spoken.
Charlotte was only thankful that they were being conveyed to a safe place. It had been her suggestion to stay with her great aunt Catharine Woodhull in Setauket, a woman who lived alone with a bevy of servants but frequently enjoyed the company of social acquaintances, none a more frequent companion than her nephew Richard. Thankfully, this particular aunt was also adept at games of appearance and neutrality, though she entertained and allowed for quiet appreciation of patriot sympathies, something Charlotte appreciated greatly. Charlotte's brothers, patriots all four, had mostly departed with the Virginia Continental Army, the eldest staying behind to manage their modest plantation, where they grew tobacco and hemp. Charlotte, yet unmarried at age twenty-two, had been called to her brother's study two months before on the unhappy errand of discussing all manner of negative implications to come, and her relative safety. While her brothers admired and cultivated their younger sister's patriotic sensibilities, they understood the value of passing unnoticed by regulars, especially for the fairer sex. William, now head of their family since the death of their father and mother, had told her that sometimes the best hiding place is in plain sight, and if she could hold her temper, and manage to keep her stinging wit to herself, she could pass the conflict in relative safety with her honor in tact. Known loyalist Richard Woodhull was said to hold a respected place as magistrate in Setauket, and their kindly great aunt, known as a friendly and well respected, if direct, dowager, would be Charlotte's cover. Charlotte had passed the weeks waiting for the reply that would seal her new arrangement in a tense, angry stupor. Wanting terribly to act out childish impulses that would have her raging against her brother for sending her away, his concern both for her welfare and for the fate of the colonies, coupled with the heavy hearted way he seemed now to approach all of his tasks, and the notion that she may not see him for a terribly long time, stayed her fury. It did nothing for her frustration.
Now, at the end of her journey, she wished she had perhaps protested further. They were approaching Setauket, having been ferried over from New Jersey without much fuss after their papers had been passed, though the increase in lobster backs as they traveled north had served to increase her anxiety significantly. Charlotte turned towards Sukey, who gave her a sympathetic smile, and shifted Charlotte's bergere hat, resting flat on her lap.
She turned her thoughts to her cousin Abraham, who she hadn't seen in a great many years, and of his friends Anna and Caleb, of whom she'd always been fond. At least she'd have companions, or if not companions, acquaintances of her own age. She wondered how much Setauket had changed since she had last been to visit, and thought there was no need to speculate, as she'd soon find out.
Sukey cast glances in Charlotte's direction, as her mistress looked pitifully out the window in her continual presentation of her vexed state, and shook her head. She was often startled, looking at Charlotte, by how stunningly beautiful the girl was. Round and pale of face, with dark brown eyes, and hair that could be called strawberry blonde and red and brown all at once, in different mingling colors, she had a natural, fresh look to her, one almost universally admired. But she could be so stubborn, and terribly sour. Thakfully, Sukey was certain, she would soon return to her generally optimistic and mischevious, slightly dark humored countenance. She always preferred her mistress snarky and rife with wit, to the sulking child who sometimes appeared when Charlotte was uncomfortable confronting her grief and resentment of elements outside her control.
When Sukey was alerted by the change in scenery outside the carriage, and by the texture of the ground, as communicated through the wheels, that they had turned off onto the private way leading to house, she helped Charlotte into her shoes and placed her flat hat onto her head, tying the ribbons carefully behind and underneath her updo. As she was being attended to, Charlotte had the opportunity to raise her eyes out the window to view the ocean, and their close proximity to Long Island sound, delighted that she would, at least, be living at the water's very edge. Charlotte smoothed her dress to the best of her ability, and, despite the cramped confines of the carriage, was implored by Sukey to turn around in several directions to be sure that her garments and adornments were in place. When at last the carriage came to a stop the in circular driveway of the stone estate, she waited in the carriage as her driver took down her footplate so she could step down. Lifting herself up out of her seat, she turned towards the carriage door as it was opened for her. Stepping down, she caught the hand that was offered to her, and smiled up at her aunt's afternoon visitor, Richard Woodhull.
Charlotte smiled, stepping down onto the ground. "Hello, Uncle."