Wallace’s eyes searched mine. His expression told me I had overstepped yet again. He glared at me while addressing her. “I will see what I can do, Madam.”
Mistress Roberts hugged her daughters joyfully, one after the other, praising Wallace even as he made his way out the front door. He borrowed a horse and rode back to town, leaving me there with no further words. She thanked me for bringing him there, though she caught herself in mid-sentence. “Though I am still peeved at you for taking him from my Serenity. If it weren’t for you, we should have no fear at all of losing this house.”
I said, “I assure you with all my heart, if I could have stopped our falling in love, if I could have known, if I could have saved Serenity—”
Serenity had returned, and now stood behind me. “Oh stop,” Serenity said. “If you believe what you say, then walk back into that woods whence you came and never return. Leave him to me where he belongs.”
“Would you have me out on the street?” I asked, cursing the plaintive note in my voice. I had wished to remain aristocratically above begging.
“Yes!” cried Serenity. “We are all on the street because of you, you witch.”
“No!” cried Betsy, America, and Herbert.
Finally, red-faced, Mistress Roberts added, “We are not as those who would throw someone out into the street. Now we are to become beggars among our friends.”
I squared my shoulders and walked up the stairs to finish packing the trunk the Spencers had supplied me. It was full of clothing that the Robertses had purchased. In it were also my petticoat and Patience’s apron. I took those from my folded garments and bundled them into my two smaller parcels.
One of the footmen carried my trunk down. I carried two hatboxes and my parcels. I bade farewell to a maid. She said, “How elegant, your ladyship. It’s like you was in a story falling in love with a prince. He’s ever so elegant. You shall be very happy.”
If happiness was measured in money, I shall, I thought. I wished Donatienne were here to talk with. Will I be happy with Wallace? I wondered. His kiss, just the memory of it, sent trills rippling over me, as if I had leaped into a cold stream and a warm bed at the same time. Was not desire also the promise of a blissful marriage? “Yes, I shall, I expect,” I said, pushing from my mind the image of a yew tree and Patience beneath it.
Mistress Roberts saw me by the trunk and shouted across the drive, “And not a tender word to our guest about love or devotion, no! Just a quick order. Oh, a fine life she’ll lead, charged around like any alewife and full of child while he goes riding about the countryside.”
I said nothing but closed my ears to her taunts, satisfied that it was justified, and partly the voice of a childish old woman who did not understand Wallace, or my love.
In the midst of wails that reminded me of my capture by the pirates, the Roberts women and two boys were pushed outside with what clothing and sundries they could carry in their arms. The servants were also put out to try their best at finding a new position. The soldiers made sure we were not pilfering the silver or gold ware. A rider came, a messenger. The master of the guard took the note first, and then gave it to Mistress Roberts. She wept anew. “Children? My children, we have no hope. We are out. We will go to my cousin Alora’s house in Cambridge. She is fond of me, I think.”
The coach Wallace sent for me arrived in the midst of turmoil. I asked the coachman to drive the Robertses to their cousin’s home in Cambridge. They packed themselves in it so we were crushed like candles in a box. On the way I tried to assure them that they would not perish. They would have to find a new way to live, that was all. I said what Patey had told me, adding words of my own advice, “Be clever. Watch always, see what is around you and care for each other. That is your best hope.” All I accomplished was sending them into gales of tears. I left them at the door of a modest house, three stories tall, with neat and well-kept vegetable gardens on the south and west sides, and some very surprised relatives. I knew enough of the raising of food to see that these gardens were a substantial boon for any family, and that they would fare better than many others might in their situation.
It was late afternoon when I arrived at the shipping office near the harbor. My dear Wallace swept me into his arms with a freedom from propriety that astonished me. It felt daring, bold, as if our passion were unleashed. We ate beef pies with beer, our last meal on land for quite a while. The ship would sail on the morning’s tide at seven. After we chatted about possible food aboard the ship, I asked, “Where shall we sleep this night?”
“Here on the bench, I suppose, with the others.” Then he laughed and said, “We’ll away to my house, have a proper supper at eight, a nice bed, and Barnes will awaken us in time to come back. On a bench? I believe you would have done it, you silly goose.”