“I’m going to speak with Teme.”
“But, those men are savages,” he protested.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I laughed. “I’ve known Teme since I was a little girl. Our fathers were friends and did business together.”
Refusing to let go of my arm, Henry decided to accompany me, while keeping his sword at the ready.
Teme dismounted from his horse, walking the remaining distance to meet us. He was nearly the same height as Henry and moved with a similar confidence. “Tenteyuawen,” he said, addressing me, “I was saddened by the death of your father. He dealt fairly with the Lenape and was always a friend to my people.” He spoke in accented English and I was reminded once again that it would have been helpful for me to have learned Unami, the tribe’s native language.
“Thank you, Teme,” I said, the usual moisture springing to my eyes whenever anyone spoke of my father.
“Now you are head of Brighmor,” he continued. “I have been sent to ask if you will continue to honor the trade agreement between our fathers or should we seek trade with other farmers?”
“I will honor the agreement,” I said, knowing it would have been my father’s wish in addition to being of great benefit to Brighmor. “Come and speak with Ben. He will act in my stead.”
Ben nodded, most likely expecting the responsibility since he was the only one at Brighmor who spoke Unami with any amount of fluency. He had always had a hand in negotiating how much of our wheat and pork would be traded for their maple syrup, venison and furs.
“Thank you, Tenteyuawen,” Teme said. “May the Great Creator keep you safe.”
Returning to his companions, he began to translate the details of our conversation while I asked Ben to quickly explain to Henry what was happening. I then turned to the ladies to inquire whether they wanted to continue knitting or put it aside for the day in light of all the excitement. Allison and Katrina decided to stay, and I was just waiting for Nora and Phoebe to finish up their rather pointed exchange on the merits of service when I overheard the men speaking.
“What was that name he kept calling Selah?” Henry asked.
“Tenteyuawen,” Ben said, repeating the Lenape name I had learned to associate with my own.
“What does it mean?”
“Translating straight across, it means ‘burning one.’ Selah’s mother and grandmother were both called the same thing when they were alive, sort of like a family name for the Kilbrid women, the best I can figure.”
“Burning one,” Henry said, repeating the words. “Would it by chance be a reference to Selah’s fiery temper?”
Ben laughed. “You’d think so. But by the way the Lenape use it, I think it means something more like an angel.”
Chapter Eleven
An Eye For An Eye
As our two-week wedding anniversary came and went, Henry and I fell into a routine that best accommodated our domestic situation. We dined together in the mornings, after which Henry and Ben would leave to ride through the wheat fields or tend to other matters of business. This took the better part of the day, and we usually did not meet up again until evening meal. Then following an hour of reading or playing chess in the smaller parlor, I would politely excuse myself for bed. By sticking close to this schedule, most days would find us together for less than three hours. Between eating and discussing the many concerns that surrounded so large an estate, I made sure little time remained for more personal relations.
By no stretch of the imagination did I consider this arrangement to be the height of marital bliss. Instead, it was just enough to keep up a good front for the servants while helping Henry and me to avoid any more problematic encounters. Our relationship could have been very different if I were at liberty to love whoever I wanted without sacrificing my gift, but why wish for something I could never have? So, for the time being I was biding by the old Irish saying “far from the eyes, far from the heart”—or some such nonsense.
A silent tension had sprung up between us since our kiss, and while I tried to forget what had happened, carefully regulating the amount of time we spent together, Henry became withdrawn in his thoughts as though weighed down by some great internal struggle. The issue finally came out one evening while we sat in the parlor reading. We sat opposite each other, me on the sofa and Henry in one of the wingback chairs with a book lying unopened in his lap. Feeling his gaze, I glanced up to find him staring at me.