My Name is Resolute

“What would you have me say, sir?”

 

 

The first said, “Give us an example, so that we may know it.”

 

“L’éternel est mon berger, je m’en veux pas. Il me fait coucher dans les verts paturages.”

 

“What say you, Gilliam, is that the French tongue?”

 

An old man nodded and smiled. “It is, indeed. The Twenty-third Psalm. Fine choice, Miss.”

 

A chorus of murmurs surrounded me. I pointed my question to the closest fellow. “May I speak, sir?” When he nodded I continued. “Is this not the town of Laxton?”

 

“Some’s call it that way, Miss. Properly pronounced Lexington.”

 

I put on my bravest smile and said, “Gentlefolk of Lexington, I wish to return to my mother and my home. I have no escort, and I would not stay in a public inn. If I may prevail upon some kindness in this company to see me to the seaport, my only intent is to find passage home.”

 

A man called from behind, saying, “Me and the missus be g’ang to Braintree on the morrow. Miss Talbot may ride with us to Boston.”

 

“What be your age, lass?” a man asked.

 

“I prefer to keep that,” I said. “It is a lady’s prerogative, is it not?”

 

“You will stay with Selectman Roberts,” one of the others said.

 

Mr. Roberts held up a hand. “We must think on this. Will you abide with us a night?”

 

Another chimed in, “That is the way it is done.”

 

“Have you wife or family?” I asked. “I would not stay alone with a man, sir.”

 

The men nodded and a few smiled. I had passed a test of my virtue. As selectman, it was Mr. Roberts’s duty to take me in, I was told, but he was bound by convention, not law, and if I displeased them, he might change his mind. Mr. Roberts said, “My wife will see you are kept company, and indeed, my daughters and two small sons shall bear witness.” He smiled at me and I could not help but return it.

 

“I shall be in your debt, sir,” I ventured, though I wondered whether that was the best response as soon as the words came. “Then may we speak of a journey to the coast?”

 

“In good time, my dear. In good time. Autumn has near set in and ocean travel will be treacherous. It may be best for you to pass the time with us until spring.”

 

I felt so free. The very air seemed to have light in it. Still, though I had no wish at all to wait longer, to convince these people to help me was my only hope. “I am sure you know more than I about ocean travel, sir, but I wish to go as soon as a ship is ready.”

 

He seemed to pay little attention to that statement, and the whole lot of them accompanied me to the door of the Roberts home. It was a short walk. The house was large and made with an overhanging second floor, so that it looked like a cake sitting upside down. In the middle of the bottom floor, a carriageway led to a stable at the back. Mr. Roberts’s family filled the house to overflowing, but unlike the Haskens’ mean and cramped conditions, this place was lighted with windows by day and candles aplenty by evening, and there was not the smell of a goat anywhere near the place. The Robertses’ daughters, aged from seven to seventeen, made much of dressing and ribbons and nosegays and lace. From eldest to youngest, they were Serenity, Betsy—whose given name was Elspeth, Tipsie—whose given name was Portia, and the smallest and most beautiful, America. The sons were Herbert and Henry. By supper that evening I had learned that the girls had been raised gentlefolk, though the two young boys, spoiled into naughtiness, teased their sisters, threw crying fits when denied their ways, and caused all manner of havoc at mealtimes. Still, they were not mean children, just untamed.

 

Alone in the washing room, I went to throw Patience’s lopsided apron on the pile for the ragmonger. As I pulled it off and let it fall to the floor, it landed on the stones and made a clinking sound. I picked it up and pressed my fingers here and there and only then remembered that it had merely been a hiding place for her old petticoat, worn to shreds. I cut the apron open. Her treasures were still intact! Ma’s silver casket had been fixed there by a patch of madder and black plaid. Ma’s pearl necklace was there under a piece of crudest linen. The whole of it inside bore stains and grit and brought distasteful shadows and a feeling of fluttering darkness upon my senses. Finding this gift from Patey gave me hope for my future tinged with hurt at her leaving me. In an hour I had everything sewn into my gray skirt in pockets and duckets, just as Ma had made. It did not have to last long, as I meant to use the gold to buy my way home.