“She said she had come to apologize for what occurred at the ball—Wallace Spencer was too proud and sent her—and then she apologized for my upset, not for your affronting.”
Jacob said, “It isn’t like you to be offended over mere words. I have known you to be almost stoic when faced with a braggart or a lunatic.”
“But she was neither. And her husband took evil advantage of my precious Gwenny. Besides, that was not all she said. She said God had made me a slave and that was where I belonged.” I burst into tears. “Oh, my dears, they will come for me. I could hang for this. My poor babes. You will be motherless and scorned. I have ruined us.”
“But Ma, it was just an apple,” said Benjamin. “I threw an apple at Thomas Bedford’s sister Nanette and it had a worm in it. All I got was that Thomas’s father flicked my behind with a switch a few times.”
I bit my lip from the inside.
Jacob said, “Well and aye. If your mother gets a switch a few times, we won’t think the worse of her, will we, children? After all, she was defending our family honor and your sister’s name.” Of course, all the children agreed with that, but my heart broke so that I wanted only to go to bed, and left America and Gwyneth to serve them supper.
America brought me tea and a bit of pudding. “I am sorry,” she said. “I cannot help but think she deserved even more, but I wish I had been the one to deliver it. Then you would have nothing to fear.”
That evening, when August rode home on a fine stallion, leading another horse he had bought, I was forced to tell the story yet again. August’s understanding was far different than mine, as was his response. “No one will arrest you,” he said, “if I have to load muskets and fight them off.”
“August, we cannot do that.”
“Then we will take your family and disappear. Or you will hide in one of your many priest holes. You built them for just such a purpose, did you not?”
“I would not break the law.”
“It was what the wench deserved. If she were not wealthy, no one would give another thought about it.”
“But she is wealthy. She will do something.”
“I will duel that fat fop over it. That will settle it. It must be done before the magistrate is called in.”
“I will not have you risk your life on that account.”
“You risked yours.”
I sighed. “I am undone. I am undone. I need Cullah. He always answered cunning with silence, and it was the right thing. I have never been able to master my own tongue.”
August laughed in a knowing way. “Only this time it was your hand, I think. Like a good cider, my little sister, you are very sweet and a wee bit spoiled, hiding a hogshead of black powder and cinnamon in your stays.”
“August! The children will hear.”
He laughed again, a bit louder, and said, “I wish that they had heard you bewend the hassock-headed bitch. You have a talent for it; it would have improved their education.”
I clapped hands over my mouth, but felt a laugh similar to his welling up from the terror within. I giggled through my tears. A pirate bold is my bonny brother, I thought.
“There,” August said. “It was only a matter of time before you let go of your fear and took this for what it really was. At best, a matter of honor. At least, two housewives squabbling.”
“August, how low.”
“You could claim it so, and given fifteen minutes before any judge, she would show herself to be the lower of the two.”
The following day August left early again, claiming he had an errand in town that could not wait. He returned at evening with no explanation other than “business.”
The next two weeks dragged past in long dreary days, some so gray we all felt compelled to sleep most of the time away for the sun barely changed the color of the sky at all from night to day. Only the lowing of the cows brought us from sleep. America tried her best to soothe me at every turn.
Two soldiers came on a Friday morning. They delivered to me a paper with the words “Writ of Summons” upon it in large hand-scribed letters. I was not being arrested, I was being sued for damages to the person of Serenity Spencer. Grievous injury, it said. Violent attack. Bloody mutilation. I closed my eyes. In my childhood I had seen bloody mutilation. “What manner of lies is this?” I said aloud to any and all. “This is nothing but falsehood. Nothing but confabulation. What shall I do?”
The soldier shrugged. “Appear in the court when it says to appear, Goody. Else we come and haul you in a cart, tied and bound to a tree. Good day to you.”