Disclaimer: The makers of the film The Patriot own Colonel Tavington. I own the rest.
Genre: romance/fantasy
Even the best-prepared researcher might not be equal to an extended stay in the past. A young Colonial servant relates the story of her mysterious employer and a British officer…
Episode Five: The Madwoman of Princess Street
Part One
Do you remember the War? Do you remember the guns, the shouting, the strange men and strange horses and strange boots in the street outside? Do you remember the fear and the hunger? I remember all of those things, for I remember the War.
We were living in Charleston then—Charles Town as it was—in a miserable little hovel, and Mama was eking out a living for us as a seamstress. Father had gone off to fight in '77, and we never saw him again. Never heard of him again, either. He stepped through the front door and vanished over the horizon. Maybe he died or maybe he found a life he liked better. I'll never know.
At any rate, that left Mama and me, and Becky, and little Andrew. Without Father's wages our food grew plainer, our house emptier, and the rent harder to net. By the spring of 1780, we were hard put to have a meal a day. For a penny, you could buy a loaf of bread or some cornmeal, or a few yams to roast. But you must first find your penny.
I was eleven: old enough to find work and lighten Mama's burden. I would have liked to apprentice with a milliner, but it costs money to 'prentice a child out, and Mama had none. No one had a place for a young servant who needed training. I stayed at home and watched the little ones, and helped Mama with the sewing, but there was less and less of it. Even fine ladies were doing their own sewing, or had servants or slaves to sew for them. Our best customers were the British soldiers billeted in the town. Say what you will of them, they stood between our family and starvation.
One Sunday, we sat in church hungry, knowing that we would go home to a dinner of plain cornmeal mush without even molasses to flavor it. You can live a long time on mush, but after a while you grow tired, and your teeth ache for substance. No matter-I was looking forward to dinner, and hoping that Mr. Philby would finish talking so I could have something to eat. I looked around at the church full of women, mostly, and some old men. There was even a handful of soldiers: the British bright with scarlet, and the Tories in green.
Mr. Philby just kept on talking. I looked at my hands awhile, seeing how I could fit my fingers together different ways. I sighed and swung my legs, and looked over at Miss Lindsey in the pew across the aisle.
Miss Lindsey was mad, they said. Not wild, or drunken, or dangerous, but mad all the same. She'd come from some place up north and never quite fit in. Mama always said that Miss Lindsey was just off, somehow. That was true. I'll never forget Miss Lindsey. Her clothes never looked right, and she talked funny, and sometimes she laughed at things for no reason anybody could figure. She wasn't mean, though, and that was always good. Mama did some sewing for her, and Miss Lindsey paid right away and better than most. That was one the signs that she was crazy. All the storekeepers said that it was shamefully easy, bargaining with Miss Lindsey. She'd pay 'most anything they asked, and never seemed to really know what things ought to cost. But she was nice, and she seemed to have all the money she needed.
She lived in a big brick house on Princess Street. There had been a cook and a maid there when she bought the place, but Miss Lindsey was mad, and she set them free right away. Folks said she did her own cooking and cleaning. She had a big, untidy garden in back, with two peach trees, and raspberry bushes, and a cowshed and a chicken coop. She paid a boy down our lane to care for the animals. She seemed very rich to us. Mama would look at that big house, with only Miss Lindsey in it, and talk about how if it were hers, we could all sleep in one the bedchambers, and put Andrew in an upstairs garret when he was old enough, and that would leave three fine rooms to let out to boarders. With the money from boarders, and with the garden, and the peach trees, and the raspberries, and two cows and all those chickens, we could live like kings. Then she would sigh, and go back to her sewing.
Mr. Philby droned on and on, about "blessed are the poor." I tried to feel blessed. Miss Lindsey saw me looking around, and gave me a smile. She had good teeth, I recollect, and was a nice-looking lady; but I had heard she was at least thirty, which seemed very old to me. I looked away, because I knew about her being crazy.
Finally, Mr Philby was done with his sermon. We sang our hymn and walked on home. I could hardly wait to dish up the mush, and was filling Andrew's little bowl, when there was a knock on the door.
I was so hungry, I didn't want Mama to answer the door, and she looked like she didn't want to answer it either, but of course she did. Miss Lindsey stood there, with her too-bright smile and her too-friendly way.
"Hello, Mrs Clay! I hope I'm not bothering you?"
"No, Miss Lindsey," Mama said quietly, "How may I be of service?"
The mush was getting cold. I saw Becky's fingers stray toward her bowl, but of course we could not eat in front of Miss Lindsey. I was afraid that Mama would feel she had to invite her in, and then we would all get less.
Miss Lindsey smiled at me. I looked down, but I knew that was rude, so I made a little bob of a curtsey. She said, "I wonder if you could spare Hannah here. The Miller boy has run off—his mother won't say where, but I suppose to join some Army somewhere. That leaves me with no one to take care of my cows and chickens, and the whole neighborhood seems a little short of boys lately. And now I've had a British officer billeted on me, and I really need some help. If Hannah would like the job, I have plenty more work for her besides."
Mama looked stunned. "You're offering Hannah a place?"
Miss Lindsey looked around her at our one room where we lived, and cooked, and slept, and did everything. Maybe she wasn't so silly after all. She said, very carefully, "Yes, I would like to hire Hannah. She can take care of the cows and chickens and help me in the house. It would be best if she stayed with me, but she could see you every Sunday."
I wanted to say no. I didn't want to leave Mama and go live with crazy Miss Lindsey, and I hoped Mama would send her away. I was useful to Mama, taking care of Becky and Andrew and helping with the sewing. Surely Mama wouldn't hire me out just so she didn't have to feed me.
Miss Lindsey said, "I'll give her her meals of course. And" she added, studying Mama, "one shilling a week in wages."
"You'll pay her every week?" Mama asked, surprised. Servants were usually not paid until the end of their year. That was that, I knew. Mama couldn't refuse such a blessing, such a gift from God, whom I should have trusted to ease the pinch before it became intolerable.
"Yes," Miss Lindsey replied, "why not? Hannah can go to church with you each Sunday, and bring her wages to you then. What do you think?' she asked anxiously.
Mama curtseyed politely to Miss Lindsey. "Thank you, ma'am. I am very beholden to you for your offer. When would it please you she come to you?"
Miss Lindsey shrugged a little. "Right away would be best. The cows need milking, and I'm really not very handy with them."
Mama did not look at me as she said, "Hannah, take the old satchel under the bed and put your things in it."
Becky protested, "Hannah hasn't had her dinner!" Her lip trembled. We had never been apart before, and now I was to go away and live in a strange house on Princess Street.
Miss Lindsey apologized. "I'm so sorry! Please, please, don't let me interrupt your dinner. Just send her along when you can." She made to leave, but Mama stopped her.
"No, ma'am, don't leave, I pray you." I could see that Mama was afraid that Miss Lindsey would change her mind and find another, better-prepared little girl. "I can have Hannah ready to go in a trice. Would it please you join us for dinner?" My heart nearly stopped with terror.
"Oh—no. Why don't I just sit with the children while they eat? I have my dinner all ready for me when I get home." She sat down without being invited, but Mama was not going to dispute her right.
She motioned at us impatiently. "Eat, then, children. Becky, help Andrew. Hannah, eat your dinner and don't keep Miss Lindsey waiting." She went over to our little clothes press and pulled out my things. I had little enough to take.
"Lord, we thank you for your bounty," I said, and quickly, I wolfed down the cold mush, and felt a little better for it. Miss Lindsey smiled at us, but seemed to be thinking about serious things. I scraped my bowl and licked the last bits from the spoon. Then I got up and put my bowl aside. Mama handed me the weather-beaten old satchel she used to carry sewing. She bent and whispered, "Bring the satchel back next Sunday. You be a good girl and mind Miss Lindsey."
Becky jumped up from her chair, ran over to me, and held me tight. Andrew came and hugged me too, but I could tell that he didn't understand that I was leaving. I kissed my brother and sister, and then Mama gave me a nice warm kiss and hug, and she pushed me away towards my new mistress.
The house on Princess Street was big and bright inside, with glass windows everywhere you looked. I followed Miss Lindsey right through the front door. After a while I saw some of the dust and neglect, for it was too much house for one woman's care, but my first impression was of shining wood and rich draperies. A big grey tom cat startled me, jumping down from the staircase and trotting over to meet us.
"McCavity," Miss Lindsey said. "There's no one like McCavity. Did you miss me, sweet boy?" she asked the cat. She was crazy, I remembered. I bent down to offer a hand for the cat to sniff. He had a white face and white front paws, and fur of luxuriant softness.
"Let's get you settled," Miss Lindsey said, and led me upstairs, into a sunny hall with many white doors. Against one side of the hall was a handsome highboy, which I later learned was full of linen. She pointed to a closed door to a room that evidently faced the street. "That's the British officer's room. I'll need you to help me keep it tidy, but he probably won't be back until late, so let's take care of you first." She walked to another door and opened it.
Inside was the finest bedchamber I had ever seen. There was a big four-poster bed with a quilted counterpane, and a carved chest of red cherry wood with four drawers. A washstand with a china bowl painted with blue flowers seemed rare and beautiful. The window was draped with soft muslin curtains that diffused the light and fluttered in the warm breeze. The room faced back toward the garden, and I could see the cowshed and the peach trees, which had passed the peak of their blooming.
Miss Lindsey let me look for a moment, and then said cheerfully, "Let's have your satchel, and we'll put away your things." This great place was to be my room.
Embarrassed, I opened the satchel and drew out my nightgown, an extra pair of stockings, and an old wooden comb with teeth missing. She had pulled out the top drawer of the chest, and then looked at my meager possessions again.
"That's all you brought?"
"Please, ma'am, it's all I have."
"Ah." She pushed the drawer in and pulled out the next lower one. "I think this drawer will be easier for you to reach. Put your comb over by the washstand. That's right." She stood, puzzling over me a little more. I was ashamed of my poverty, and hung my head.
"Well," she said brightly, after awhile. "Why don't I show you the cows and the chickens?"
The coop was a warm, feathery, dusty softness. She had already let them out to scratch, earlier in the morning, and had filled their pans with water. I helped her find a few eggs, and then we went to see the cows. She had two: fine Jersey milch cows that munched hay placidly. Everyday but Sunday, Old Joe Coleman took them out to graze during the day, along with a number of other cows belonging to the neighbors. I would do the milking, morning and evening, when they were back in the shed. I had not milked a cow in over a year, since we had had to part with Daisy, but I remembered all about it. One of the cows' udders looked a little lumpy. I could see that Miss Lindsey hadn't stripped her well. I would do better. There would be milk, and cream, and even butter.
"What are their names? " I asked.
"Feckless," she said, pointing to the one with the curled ear, "and Hopeless." She patted the cow with the lumpy udder.
"I've never heard such names, " I ventured.
She laughed in an odd way. "I'm sure you haven't. Nonetheless, they are, indeed, Feckless and Hopeless."
She showed me the buckets, and milkpans, and everything I would need. She told me how she wanted the cow things kept. Miss Lindsey had a bee in her bonnet about everything being clean. I could see that if I wanted to keep my place, I would need to do a great deal of washing.
It was midday, but I decided to get to work. "I will try milking them now, Miss Lindsey, so they become used to me."
"Well, all right—if you're sure—"
"And I am keeping you from your dinner, ma'am."
"Oh, that! When you're done in here, bring the milk to the kitchen, and I'll have dinner then. I'm sure you wouldn't mind having a little bite with me, just to celebrate your new job!"
"No, indeed, ma'am. I thank you." She went back into the house with the basket of eggs, and I set to work.
I brought the milk into the kitchen, and found that Miss Lindsey had set places for the two of us at the table there. I had only a little over a half pail of milk, but she immediately poured out a cup of it, and set it at the place she said was mine. She covered the pail and set it aside.
"It's good for you," she urged me, as I shyly sat down with her. I did not dare contradict my mistress, and tell her I was not a baby. Besides, there was a wonderful smell coming from a platter of fried ham and eggs. On the table was half a loaf of wheat bread, ready to be sliced. A glass dish of red rhubarb preserves glowed in the light from the window. I was struck dumb at such a feast. Miss Lindsey offered me the platter, and I timidly took an egg, and a small slice of ham. She frowned and added another slice and another egg. "You need to eat," she said firmly. She cut the bread and put two slices on my plate, and then gave me the dish of preserves. "There's not much fresh fruit this time of year, but the rhubarb will do instead."
It was tart and sweet, and I felt rich and very worldly, sitting in a fine kitchen and enjoying such food. Afterwards, we washed the dishes together. Miss Lindsey showed me the well outside, and made certain that getting water was not too much for my strength. She washed and I wiped. She showed me where to put the dishes away, and then took me down cellar with her, when she put the milk there to stay cool. When the cows began yielding more, there would be enough to skim for cream. I could hardly wait.
After all that, she took me upstairs again. "I'm lucky they only saddled me with one officer. He usually takes his meals at the officers' mess, but now and then he turns up hungry. He's more work than I could have imagined. It's hard enough to keep this place clean and dusted with just me. I'll expect you to take care of your own room, of course, but it would be a great help if you would do Colonel Tavington's room as well."
She opened the white door, and I saw what she meant about work. This room, too, had a large, four-poster bed. It was unmade, and the bedclothes were a rumpled mess. The pillows were heaped haphazardly together at the head of the bed. There was a familiar sour smell, and some men's shirts were flung on a chair. There was a stack of books on a traveling chest, and a razor and a comb by the wash stand. A sodden towel lay on the floor.
Miss Lindsey looked around her, with her lips pressed together tightly. "Some people are used to being waited on."
She opened the window wider to air the room. "All right. First of all, make the bed up very neatly. I'll help you do the room this time, so you see how I like it done. Then take the chamberpot down to the privy and empty it. Take it to the well house and rinse it out until it's perfectly clean. Throw the rinsings onto the ground where the raspberry bushes are. Then bring it up and go get a pitcher of fresh water, along with some clean rags from the kitchen. I'll show you the rag basket. Empty the basin. You can empty it out the window of your room, because there's nothing below to be hurt. Clean the basin and the washstand very carefully with a little water from the pitcher. Then wipe it dry so it doesn't streak. Set the pitcher with the fresh water in the basin. Hang a clean towel on the washstand and remember to take the dirty one away to the laundry basket in the kitchen. Then fetch the broom and the dustpan and clean out the fireplace. When that's done, go get some firewood and tinder and lay the fire ready to light if he wants it. Take another rag and dust the room. If Colonel Tavington has left anything on the chest of drawers or the washstand, put it back after you dust. Don't put it anywhere else. As to his dirty shirts—that's his problem. I'm not his laundress. Some woman from the army comes by every few days to take away his dirty things and bring fresh ones. Mrs Harley does my washing once a week."
It took most of an hour to set the Colonel's room to rights. Miss Lindsey showed me where she kept the clean sheets and towels in the upstairs highboy. I was impressed myself by how much trouble one man could be.
"Won't the Colonel want hot water in the mornings?" I asked.
She said dryly, "The Colonel wants hot water morning and evening, but I'll take care of that. You'll be busy in the early mornings with the cows and the chickens. I always have a pot of hot water to the side of the kitchen hearth. I check it now and then and if it's getting low I fill it from the kitchen pail. If you see the pail getting low, it's your job to see it stays filled." She gave a tired sigh, and brushed a loose tendril of hair back under her cap. Moving the hair aside revealed a long, faint, white scar on her cheek. Miss Lindsey saw me notice it. "I burned myself cooking with hot lard. It took me awhile to get used to Here." Somehow, I felt that Here was not just the house on Princess Street.
It was Sunday, after all, and supposed to be a day of rest. My work was done until the cows should be milked in the evening. Miss Lindsey showed me over the rest of that fascinating house: the attic, with its two little garret rooms, the like of which would have been more fitting for a young servant like me; the stately dining room, filled with beautiful china and silver; the parlor, which held a sofa covered in green silk brocade, a bookcase full of volumes bound in fine leather, and a pianoforte of polished wood. Touching it was rapture. I had never seen a pianoforte close to, and stared curiously at the strange object, with its mysterious front of mixed black and white bits. The keyboard, Miss Lindsey, told me it was called.
Without thinking, I reached out, and pressed one of the ivories. The musical tone sounded out clearly, startling me, and attracting Miss Lindsey's attention. "Do you like music?" she asked, with an odd, eager look on her face.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered cautiously. She said, "Sit down," and I perched uneasily on an elegant armchair. She sat down at the instrument, and began to play a hymn from church that day:
"Am I a soldier of the cross, a follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own His cause, or blush to speak His Name?
Must I be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize, and sailed thro' bloody seas?"
When she was done, I thanked her, quite impressed. She smiled. "Come here," she said, and had me sit down on the stool before the instrument in her place.
She took my hand, and made it curve as though I were holding a ball. She positioned my hand carefully, and told me that my thumb was on top of middle C. She pressed down my thumb and my fingers, one after another. It was thrilling to make such sounds. She grew more animated, and pulled over a chair for herself.
She must have talked a good half an hour. She told me the names of the keys and what an octave was. She told me that what I had done was a five-finger exercise and she had me do it with both my hands. She told me that I could touch the pianoforte whenever I liked, if I was careful and finished my work first; and that if I were a good girl, she would teach me to play it properly.
Talking about music put her in a very good humor. After a while, she got up and showed me her books. I knew my letters, and could read a little, but I had never had time or materials to learn to write much. She said we would work on that too. She drew out a little book, bound in green, whose title I could sound out: "Goody Two-Shoes."
"This is a book for children about a little girl like you," she said. "Would you like to try to read it?"
Even the title page was hard going for me. Miss Lindsey helped.
"The History of Little Goody Two Shoes: Otherwise called Mistress Margery Two Shoes. The Means by which she acquired her learning and wisdom, and in consequence thereof her estate, set forth at large for the benefit of thoseWho from a state of Rags and Care,
And having Shoes but half a Pair;
Their Fortune and their Fame would fix,
And gallop in a Coach and Six."
"Take the book with you," said Miss Lindsey. "You may keep it until you can read it all the way through. We will try a little together every day." She told me I could do as I pleased until supper time, for she would be busy writing in her journal. I found out later that everyday she wrote in a book, and had filled a whole stack of the bound volumes. I wondered what she had to write about. Happy to have some time to myself, I put my new book in my pocket and went up to my grand new chamber.
There was a little rocking chair by the window. I sat down in it to look at the book. Turning the pages, I found I could manage quite of few of the words, if not all the sense. I further discovered that there were pictures in the book. I had never seen a picture book before, and eagerly studied the black and white images that I later learned were called woodcuts. There were pictures of a little girl and of a little boy, a picture of a woman in a cap kneeling down to kiss the little girl. There were pictures of dogs and lambs and grandly dressed gentlemen. I had had no idea there were such wonderful books in the world.
I fell asleep over my book, for I next recall Miss Lindsey summoning me to a simple but comforting supper of Indian pudding. It was hot and seasoned with cinnamon. I wondered if we would always eat this well. I finished my pudding and went out to look after the animals. Another milking yielded about the same amount of milk as before, or perhaps a little less. It would take awhile, but the cows would soon respond to their new schedule. I forked over more hay for them and fetched them fresh water. The chickens were already settled down for the night. They, too, needed fresh water, and I filled their pans before I fastened the coop door.
Miss Lindsey was waiting for me in the kitchen, and told me to take the milk pail down cellar and empty it into the other already there. I brought the now empty pail upstairs to rinse it out. While I cleaned it, Miss Lindsey sat in quiet thought, stroking the purring McCavity on her lap.
I wondered if I should bid her goodnight, when she suddenly spoke. "Hannah, there is one more thing for you to do. I always check the house at eight o'clock every evening, and I want you to help me. Maybe you'll see something I might miss."
"Check the house, ma'am? What are we looking for?" My heart sank. I had forgotten, with the good food, and the music, and the book that Miss Lindsey was crazy.
She waved a vague gesture. "Something unusual. A bright light. A new doorway. Unfamiliar sounds." She saw my confusion, and sighed. "Anything out of the ordinary."
We went from room to room. At her bidding, I crawled under the furniture. Upstairs, I looked under the beds. She peered behind the highboy and the pianoforte, and then we went up to the attic and looked there, too. We moved quickly, for Miss Lindsey said it would only last a quarter of an hour, whatever "it" was. I wondered if Miss Lindsey were one of those women who was afraid of housebreakers. I could not see why, when everyone must know that we had a soldier in the house. No, it was because she was a madwoman, poor thing. I felt bad for her. She was so nice it was a shame she was crazy.
Nothing unusual was to be seen. She muttered to herself, "I can't believe they would have forgotten me. Maybe there's been a systems failure." She shivered. "Maybe they've lost funding." She seemed very low in spirits. She laid a gentle hand on my head. "Never mind. Off to bed with you. I'll wake you in the morning."
Obediently, I went to my fine new room. It seemed too big and empty for me. I slipped on my nightgown, and combed out my hair. Then I said my prayers and crawled to the center of the too-large bed, thinking wretchedly of my family. At home I would be cuddled next to Becky, with Andrew and Mama cozily asleep in the bed as well. I had never felt so alone. I stared at the darkening ceiling for a long time, as tears ran down my cheeks and moistened my pillow.
After a while, I heard the front door open, and an Englishman's voice call out, "Miss Lindsey! Fetch me some hot water!" Booted feet ascended the stairs. I felt a little afraid of having a strange man only a few yards away, and wished I had locked my door. The door to the officer's room opened and I heard him walking about inside. It sounded like he kicked something, and quite plainly I heard him use a word that Mama did not like. I wondered if he had been drinking. Papa had used such language when he had had too much to drink, and in my experience drinking was the usual preamble to shouts and blows. I slid down further under the counterpane.
I heard Miss Lindsey's lighter step on the stairs and then her soft voice at the officer's door. "Your hot water, Colonel."
There were more thumps, first one, then another. He's taking off his boots, I realized. I could not hear an answer, and supposed he must have responded only with a gesture for her to bring it in and set it down. A moment later, Miss Lindsey spoke again. "Good night, then, Colonel."
I heard a low grunt in reply and the door to his room closed. He moved around for awhile, making no small amount of noise; but I had had a wearying day, and soon was sound asleep, in the lonely grandeur of a bed of my own.
The Colonel's door was still closed when I arose the next morning for my first full day in my new position. The cows placidly accepted me; the chickens were swiftly dealt with. I spent a few idle moments over a new hatching of chicks, admiring the softness of their fluffy yellow down. A cold glass of milk from down cellar awaited me at breakfast. Miss Lindsey believed that drinking milk would make my bones strong. I couldn't see the connection, save that milk and bones are both white, but there is no doubt that the food and drink I received while in her care greatly improved my health.
"I need to do some shopping today," Miss Lindsey announced in her cheerful way. "You'll come with me."
"Has the Colonel gone out yet?" I asked timidly.
"Ha!" Miss Lindsey's eyes flashed. "No, not yet. He's awake though, and he's already got the hot water he shouted for. I'd like to give him hot water," she growled. I did not quite understand her, but I then I imagined her dousing the fearsome British soldier with a pitcherful, and I had to grin at the thought. She smiled back, and patted my cap. "Eat up, Hannah. I told Colonel Tavington that I was going out, and that I would thank him to lock the door when he left, if he wanted to have any belongings when he returned. He has quite a glare."
"Aren't you afraid—" I began, and stopped, not wishing to set my opinion against hers.
"Afraid of Colonel Tavington?" She frowned. "Not very. Not at the moment. We're in a city and his superiors are near by. Mind you, I can well imagine that crossing him would be a mistake if he had his regiment at his back, or if we were in some isolated place in the country; but here, in Charlestown, with Lord Cornwallis newly arrived and all the proclamations that loyal subjects have nothing to fear-no. No, I'm not afraid of him, unless he were to lose his temper or have too much to drink. Then any man can become dangerous. But I'm just his unwilling landlady, and not worth the wrath of his commander." She saw my anxious face, and squeezed my shoulder. "So don't you be afraid of him either. Now finish your milk and we'll have a wonderful time."
We heard the Colonel shout for Miss Lindsey again, and she rolled her eyes and left the kitchen. I began washing up the breakfast dishes and heard her call back up the stairs, "If you want tea, there's some in the pot here in the kitchen. I'll cover it so it's still warm by the time you've finished dressing." He made some sharp-toned answer back, and she came back into the kitchen, looking very cross. "What a jerk," she muttered. "I am so sick of this—" She often used expressions I had never heard. Seeing me already washing the dishes, she smiled. "You're a very good girl, Hannah. It's a shame more people aren't-" she raised her voice, directing her words at the ceiling, "as considerate as you are!" The dishes were quickly done. "Come on, " she said. "Let's get out of here before His Majesty comes downstairs and needs us to pour a cup a tea for him."
We had a wonderful morning. We went to the shops, and Miss Lindsey bought muslin and cambric, and a pretty blue printed cotton. To my astonishment, I was informed that I was to have new clothes.
"You need a change so your other things can be laundered, Hannah."
I did not dare argue, nor did I want to. I did not argue as she bought a small workbasket for me, and fitted it out with needles and pins, with silk and cotton, with scissors and a measure and a thimble just my size. I did not argue when we stopped at the cobbler's, and Miss Lindsey ordered me a new pair of shoes to replace my too-small footgear, slitted around the sides to make room for my growing feet. She bought me other things as well: a warm blue shawl, two more pairs of stockings, a hairbrush, and a little brush for cleaning my teeth. I never met anyone so set on things being clean as Miss Lindsey.
To my great pleasure, we walked to my home, and Miss Lindsey engaged Mama to make my new clothes. A new gown, a new petticoat, an underpetticoat, a shift, an apron, and a new nightgown, too.
The morning had sped by. On our return, Miss Lindsey went directly to the kitchen to start dinner, and sent me upstairs to see if Colonel Tavington were out, and if so, to do up his room.
With great trepidation, I knocked softly at the forbidding white door. There was no answer. "Colonel? Sir? Are you there?" I essayed.
There was no response and I slowly opened the door. Colonel Tavington was indeed gone, and had left his room in an even worse state of disarray than the day before. Papers littered the floor around the small writing desk, and the wet towel from his morning wash was on the bed. I would have to change the sheets.
I began with the bed, since that was the order of Miss Lindsey's instruction. Besides, a well-made bed goes far to make a room look tidy. I squared the corners smartly, and plumped up the pillows. Then I busied myself with the chamberpot, and then the wash basin. I made good progress, smelling the enticing scents of the dinner that was being prepared downstairs. Nothing remained but the dusting. I decided that I must pick up the fallen papers, and lay them neatly on the desk. I smoothed them out and was making a tidy-looking stack, when a harsh voice made me jump with alarm.
"Who are you and what are you doing with my papers?"I gave a little scream of fright. A terrible, terrible soldier in red was bearing down on me, scowling ferociously. He seized me by my arm, and snarled, "What have you been stealing?" He forced my hands open, bruising me in the process. I started to sob, but I couldn't escape him. He gripped both my wrists in one hand, and with the other searched my pocket. He pulled out my little green book of Goody Two-Shoes, and cast it aside with an oath.
"Let go of that child, right now!" Miss Lindsey had come running at the sound of my scream, and accosted the Colonel, pushing him back and pulling me close. "What do you think you're doing, manhandling a little girl like that? Shame on you!"
"What the devil is she doing in here?"
"She's cleaning your pigsty of a room! Not that you'd notice, or dream of thanking her!" Miss Lindsey took a deep, indignant breath. Her cheeks were rosy with anger and she looked much prettier than usual. I was terrified for her. If my mother had spoken to my father so, she would have been beaten. I wondered if this powerful, angry soldier would use his fists or a stick. Miss Lindsey put her hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the Colonel. "This is Hannah Clay. She is staying here because you've made so much work for me that I needed help. Her mother was kind enough to entrust her to me, believing she would be well treated!"
I dared to glance at Colonel Tavington. He was an awesome sight in his scarlet coat and boots. A huge sabre hung from his sword belt. If he drew it, I knew I should die of fear. He looked at me and grimaced. I bobbed a submissive curtsey. Sometimes that soothed angry men.
He was still angry, but calmer. He looked down his nose at us. "I had no idea that I was causing trouble, Madam. I am hardly here."
Miss Lindsey was still angry, too. "You're here long enough to make a pig's breakfast of your bedchamber!" I slipped away, and picked up my precious book, smoothing a page that had been crumpled. I ran back behind Miss Lindsey again, and peered around her at the terrible man.
He was tall and well made. If he had had a pleasanter expression on his face, I would have called him comely. He was plainly gentleborn, with the air of entitlement and superiority I had often marked in the rich folk about town. There is no understanding such people. They talk a great deal about honour and gentility, but Mama had no end of trouble getting some of her customers to pay for work she had done. They would put her off, or laugh, or sneer about how money-grubbing the lower orders were.
Not surprisingly, I did not feel much liking for Colonel Tavington, as he stood there frowning. Still, he did not move to strike us, and I began to breathe easier.
He looked at me, and said, "Come here, child." He saw my hesitation, and said, more sharply, "Come here!"
Miss Lindsey glared at him, and he gave her a cold look, "If you please, Madam." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a sixpence. "I thank you for cleaning my room. I trust you will say nothing of any papers you pried into, for I assure you I punish spies and tattling children." He pressed the coin into my palm, with a half smile.
"What a charming thing to do," Miss Lindsey hissed furiously. "Offering the child money instead rendering an apology!"
"Apology?" he laughed, incredulous. I couldn't believe it either. Besides, I had much rather have the sixpence. But Miss Lindsey did not see it that way.
"Yes, an apology for hurting an innocent little girl who was only trying to put your disgusting room in order! Well, it's as clean as it going to get today. Come on down to dinner now, Hannah, and we'll leave this gentleman alone with his terribly important papers. As if we care about such rubbish!" She stormed downstairs. McCavity, dozing on the steps, gave a mrowl of surprise and darted out of her way.
Colonel Tavington was white-lipped with anger. He ran to the head of the stairs and shouted down them, "Intolerable woman! I don't suffer such insolence!"
I was truly frightened now, and I ran forward, "Please, sir! Please don't be angry with Miss Lindsey!"
"That harpy!" Colonel Tavington snarled, pushing me aside.
I clung to his sleeve. "She can't help it, sir! She's mad!"
He stopped dead and stared at me. "What impudence is this?"
"No, sir! She really is mad. Everybody knows it. If you were from Charlestown you'd know it too. I'm not speaking ill of her. She's very kind and good, but she's crazy, and that's just the simple truth."
He paused and looked doubtful. "She doesn't seem violent or dangerous—what do you mean, mad?"
I swallowed. "Well, sir," I began, "she doesn't like to keep servants. When she came here, she freed the slaves that were sold with the house. And the merchants in town all cheat her, because she won't bargain."
His eyebrows rose, and he said acidly, "Perhaps that is how petty provincials might view a woman who opposes slavery on principle and is too high-minded to haggle like a peasant."
"She makes me drink milk with every meal."
He actually laughed, then, and shook off my grip on his sleeve. "Oh, come!" he scoffed, brushing off his uniform. "Giving nourishing food to a child is madness?"
"She talks to her cat."
He laughed again, now seemingly very diverted. "A harmless eccentricity in a lonely woman. And people judge her mad for these trifles? I thank God some of my own relations never lived in the Colonies. They'd all be locked away."
"She searches the house every night between eight and a quarter past for bright lights and new doors."
"Ah." He smiled again, more gravely now, but still amused. "Ah." He was quiet and looked just a little compassionate. "I see. And you think I should be more understanding of her failings. That I should humour her, in short?"
"Yes, sir. Yes, please, Colonel. She's very good and I'm very happy here. I don't want anyone to hurt her."
"Then," he said, very decidedly, "you must never tell anyone else what you have just told me. The world is full of busybodies who are fond of ruining other people's lives. As long as Miss Lindsey is not a danger to herself or others, it would be cruel to have her put away. Why doesn't her family take care of her?"
"I don't think she has any family. I don't think she has anyone but McCavity-and me, now."
"Very well," he said, all his earlier anger quite gone. "I shall try to indulge Miss Lindsey's eccentricities. Like you, I find this a pleasant place, and I'm quite happy with it—aside from the lack of service." He stood thoughtfully a moment, and then a smile flickered across his face. He pinched my cheek gently, and went back to his room. I clutched my silver sixpence tightly, already feeling better disposed towards our officer.
The Colonel left that afternoon, and was gone more than a week. Time passed pleasantly with my music lessons, and lessons in reading and writing. In the afternoons, Miss Lindsey wrote industriously in her journal. We gardened, we sewed, and the cows finally gave enough milk for us to make butter. Miss Lindsey had a pretty butter mold that would press out a pat with the shape of a flower on top. I proudly gave my mother my week's wages and the additional sixpence on Sunday, along with a pot of rhubarb preserves from Miss Lindsey. Mother had finished the new blue dress for me, and the new shift, and I could hardly wait to put them on the following day. I finished hemming a handkerchief, from a square of fine cambric that Miss Lindsey had cut out for me, and was given another piece to make a second. Miss Lindsey declared I needed at least three. Faithfully, every night at eight o'clock, we made our progress through the house to search for lights and noises and doors.
As I was stitching that Wednesday afternoon, I heard the front door open, and Colonel Tavington call out, "Miss Lindsey! It is William Tavington!"
"We're in the parlour, Colonel," Miss Lindsey answered. He passed the door of the parlour and saw us sewing quietly. He smiled a little at the sight, but Miss Lindsey and I stared at him. He looked a fright, his uniform spotted and smeared with some dark brown stains, and his face pale, dirty, and haggard. The weather was turning hot, and he seemed a little feverish. His boots were filthy, and he immediately set about removing them before treading elsewhere in the house.
"Hannah, my dear," he said. "I would be obliged if you'd give my boots a good cleaning. Mrs McKenzie will be by shortly to fetch my laundry and this uniform for cleaning. I don't suppose there is any possibility of a bath, Miss Lindsey?"
"I have a hip bath—" she began slowly.
"Excellent!"
"It's in the spare room upstairs. If you want to move it into your room that's all right. Or if you want to take it downstairs and use the kitchen, I suppose it would be easier for you to fill it there."
"I—fill the bath?"
She told him frankly, "It will take at least five buckets to fill it, and then the hot water must be carried, too. It's beyond Hannah's strength, and not very easy for me either."
"If you kept a manservant—" he broke in impatiently.
"Well, I don't!" Miss Lindsey lifted her chin defiantly. "The only male creatures in this house are you and McCavity, and he has paws! I guess that pretty much narrows it down to you." She folded her arms, and looked him in the eye. "If you want a bath, you will have to haul the water up yourself. I'll provide hot water only."
I could see he was keeping his temper with an effort. He glanced at me, and I knew he was remembering what I had said. He took a deep breath, and said, "I quite understand, Madam. In future I shall make other arrangements." He gave her a quiet nod, and left to go upstairs. I heard the sounds of the bath being moved and I took the boots to the kitchen, diligently cleaning them.
Colonel Tavington did indeed fetch the water, his jaw grimly set. I made myself small in my chair as I polished his boots. While he was at the well, the army laundress came by, and there was some bustle as he got all his clothes ready for her, and gave her some instructions I was too far away to hear. Being a strong man, he could carry two pails upstairs at the same time. Miss Lindsey followed with one pail of hot water, and then went down to get another.
She came down later, looking a little guilty. "Well, he's having his bath now. I hope he enjoys it. He did look so tired… No matter-I refuse to allow him to make a servant of me. It's a matter of principle."
"Yes, ma'am," I whispered. What principle?
Miss Lindsey was listening to me read, later that afternoon, when there was a knock at the back door. I set my book down, and ran to answer it. Outside were a soldier, a woman, and two little children.
The man grinned. "Trooper McKenzie, and this is my wife and my little 'uns. Colonel ordered us to come here and help out."
Miss Lindsey came to the door to see what was going on. Before we knew it, the McKenzies were moving their belongings up to the two garret rooms, and were snugly installed. Miss Lindsey tried to protest, but the McKenzies kept repeating that they had their orders, and that they were billeted here now. Trooper McKenzie was Colonel Tavington's orderly, and would do some of the heavy work, when he wasn't riding with the Dragoons. Mrs. McKenzie was to help with cooking and housework; and the "little 'uns," Jamie and Archie, lively as cock-sparrows, were evidently under orders to get in our way as much as possible.
I scorned the little boys from the grandeur of my position as a real servant earning wages, but they were a help finding eggs in the morning. Their mother also set them to weeding the overgrown garden and gathering fallen branches for kindling. Miss Lindsey found herself relentlessly being pushed out of the kitchen.
"But I like to cook," she protested.
"No harm in a lady baking a fancy cake or two," Mrs McKenzie blandly agreed. There was no arguing with her: she had been a servant before she had married, and knew how things ought to be done. Miss Lindsey's meals were henceforth served in the dining room, and over were our cozy times in the kitchen. Instead, because of my age, I ate with the McKenzies, and the Colonel often joined Miss Lindsey at the polished cherry table, set with her pretty china and gleaming silver. That first time, she had looked bewildered when Mrs McKenzie had informed her that it was time for her to dress for dinner. Seeing the futility of argument, Miss Lindsey went upstairs and appeared at the table in a pretty blue silk dress and lace cap I had not seen before. I thought she looked very nice and not at all mad—or eccentric, as the Colonel would say. It seemed to me that the Colonel thought she looked nice, too.
Still, Miss Lindsey and I spent our afternoons in the parlour together. We would sew, or I would sew or practice reading or music and she would write busily in her journal. Once or twice, I overheard the McKenzies talking about me, and eyeing me speculatively. It seemed that they regarded me less as a servant, than as a foundling that Miss Lindsey had adopted and was raising to be a gentlewoman and a companion. I could understand why, since I had been given one of the fine bedchambers, and she was teaching me music and writing. It was not an unpleasant thought.
Miss Lindsey had submitted to Colonel Tavington's introduction of the McKenzies: but the one thing she would not budge from was the nightly search of the house. When Colonel Tavington was in, he would look amused and indulgent when she asked to have a look at his room at the appointed hour. Occasionally his eyes met mine. When he wasn't being ferocious, he had quite beautiful eyes, blue as forget-me-nots. Now and then, he gave me a shiny sixpence with a little smile and a light touch, as if I were a nice kitten.
Our real cat, McCavity, alarmed by the appearance of two small boys, wisely kept out of their way; and kept out of the way of Mrs McKenzie, who had no use for cats, nor indeed any animal in a house. If it had been left to her, McCavity would have found himself relegated to the cowshed. But Miss Lindsey loved McCavity, and he mostly stayed in the safer, stately confines of the parlour and the upstairs bedrooms. He was attached to Miss Lindsey, and tolerant of me, allowing me as a great favour to brush his thick, silken fur. He was haughtily aloof around the Colonel, and had to be kept out of his room; for otherwise he would leave tokens of his disregard upon the bed. I had caught him at it, chased him from the room, and speedily changed the bed and shut the door fast. Indulgent as the Colonel was of Miss Lindsey, I could not imagine him hesitating to toss McCavity out the window if he came home and found his bed used in such a fashion.
The McKenzies outwardly accepted the nightly intrusion into their quarters, but I had the feeling that they found it all very odd indeed, and discussed it at length in the privacy of their garret rooms when we were gone downstairs again.
Mrs McKenzie, indeed, did allude to it once, saying that spinsters who lived alone too long got the strangest notions in their heads. Jamie McKenzie, watching me milk Feckless, and begging for a turn at it, told me more frankly that his parents had said that Miss Lindsey needed a man.
"That what my father said," he declared. He said, 'I know what she needs,' and my mother laughed, and I asked what he meant. Then my mother said it meant that she needed a man, and then she wouldn't be looking for one under the beds. They laughed and laughed."
The family seemed very pleased with their billet, though; having the two small but comfortable rooms for their own, and thus considerable privacy. Mrs McKenzie would sigh over the war, and the home she had lost, and the fact that within the month the army would certainly be moving north and west, against the rebels. It seemed to me, too, sometimes, that if the war would just go away, we could all live quite happily in the house on Princess Street.
Part 1 of 2
Notes:
McCavity, of course, is from Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, by T.S. Eliot.
McCavity, McCavity, there's no one like McCavity.
He's broken every human law: he breaks the laws of gravity…
The cows' names come from a favorite book of mine, Cold Comfort Farm, by Stella Gibbons. A true hoot.
The hymn is by Sir Thomas Arne, 1710-1778.
Goody Two-Shoes is one of a series of six-penny books for children. It is attributed to Oliver Goldsmith, and was published in 1765.
"Eyes blue as forget-me-nots" is obviously stolen from Barrie's Captain Hook.
For those of you who do not have cats: they really will express their dislike of an intruder. A young visitor one summer was deemed an interloper and had her bed repeatedly soiled by the indignant feline (until she learned to keep the door shut).