Part 34 (1/2)
”Come along!” Bidwell was wearing a smirk that was not very much disguised. ”You look in need of some breakfast!”
Matthew followed Bidwell to the carriage, with the magistrate walking at his side. The onlookers were going away to their daily business, the small excitement over. Suddenly a woman stepped in front of Matthew and said brightly, ”My compliments!”
It took Matthew a few seconds to register that Lucretia Vaughan was offering him a teacake from her basket. ”Please take one!” she said. ”They're freshly baked!” He felt numbed of mind and scorched of shoulders, but he didn't wish to offend her so he did accept a teacake.
”The las.h.i.+ng wasn't so bad, was it?” she asked.
”I'm gratified it's over.”
”Madam, we have breakfast to attend to!” Bidwell had already secured his seat in the carriage. ”Would you let him pa.s.s, please?”
She kept her eyes locked on Matthew's. ”You will will come to dinner on Thursday evening, will you not? I have made plans for it.” come to dinner on Thursday evening, will you not? I have made plans for it.”
”Dinner?” He frowned.
”My mistake,” Woodward said to the woman. ”I neglected to inform him.”
”Oh? Then I shall make the invitation myself. Would you come to dinner on Thursday evening? At six o'clock?” She gave Woodward a brief, rather tight smile. ”I would invite you also, Magistrate, but seeing as how you are so feeble I fear an evening out might only worsen your health.” She turned her rapacious attention upon Matthew once more. He thought that the s.h.i.+ne of her blue eyes was gla.s.sy enough to indicate fever. ”May I count on your arrival?”
”Well... I thank you,” he said, ”but I-”
”You will find my home very hospitable,” she plowed on. ”I do know how to set a table, and you might ask anyone as to the quality of my kitchen.” She leaned her head forward, as if offering to share a secret. ”Mr. Green is quite fond of my onion bread. He told me that the loaf I presented to him yesterday afternoon was the finest he'd ever set eyes on. The thing about onion bread,” and here she lowered her voice so that Bidwell might not hear, ”is that it is a great persuader. A meal of it, and mercy follows.”
What the woman was saying wasn't lost on Matthew. If indeed Green had had held back in his delivery of the whip-which Matthew, in severe pain, found difficult to believe-it was likely due to Madam Vaughan's influence on his behalf. ”I see,” he said, though his view was not entirely clear. held back in his delivery of the whip-which Matthew, in severe pain, found difficult to believe-it was likely due to Madam Vaughan's influence on his behalf. ”I see,” he said, though his view was not entirely clear.
”Come along!” Bidwell said impatiently. ”Madam, good day!”
”Might you favor my home with your presence on Thursday evening?” Madam Vaughan was obviously not one to buckle before pressure, though she certainly knew how to apply it. ”I can promise you will find it of interest.”
He surely didn't feel in need of dinner company at the moment, but by Thursday he knew the pain would be a bad memory. Besides that, the woman's manipulations intrigued him. Why had she desired to intercede in his punishment? He nodded. ”Yes, I'll be there.”
”Excellent! Six o'clock, then. I shall send my husband to fetch you.” She gave a quick curtsey and withdrew, after which Matthew pulled himself up into the carriage.
Bidwell watched Matthew try to keep his shoulders from rubbing the seatback as the carriage creaked along Peace Street. Try as he might, Bidwell couldn't wipe the smirk of satisfaction off his face. ”I hope you're cured of your malady!”
Matthew had to bite at the offered hook. ”What malady might that be?”
”The sickness of sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong. You got off very lightly.”
”I suppose I did.”
”I know know you did! I've seen Green whip a man before. He did hold back. If he hadn't, you'd be bleeding and blubbering right now.” He shrugged. ”But Green doesn't care much for Hazelton, so there you have it. Magistrate, might I hope you'll pa.s.s sentence today?” you did! I've seen Green whip a man before. He did hold back. If he hadn't, you'd be bleeding and blubbering right now.” He shrugged. ”But Green doesn't care much for Hazelton, so there you have it. Magistrate, might I hope you'll pa.s.s sentence today?”
”Not today,” came the hoa.r.s.e reply. ”I must study the records.”
Bidwell scowled. ”I don't for the life of me see what you have to study!” study!”
”It's a matter of being fair,” Woodward said.
”Being fair?” fair?” Bidwell gave a harsh laugh. ”Yes, this is why the world's in its current shape!” Bidwell gave a harsh laugh. ”Yes, this is why the world's in its current shape!”
Matthew couldn't remain quiet. ”Meaning what, sir?”
”Meaning that some men mistake hesitation for fairness, and thus the Devil runs rampant over the heads of good Christians!” Bidwell's eyes had a rapier glint and dared Matthew to disagree. ”This world will be burnt to a cinder in another fifty years, the way Evil is allowed to prosper! We'll be barricading our doors and windows against Satan's soldiers! But we'll be fair fair about it, won't we, and therefore we'll leave a battering ram on our doorsteps!” about it, won't we, and therefore we'll leave a battering ram on our doorsteps!”
Matthew said, ”You must have attended one of Preacher Jerusalem's speeches.”
”Pah!” Bidwell waved a hand at him in disgust. ”What do you know of the world? Much less than you think! Well, here's a laugh on you, clerk: your theory about Alan Johnstone is just as crippled as he is! He came to the house last night and showed us his knee!”
”He did?” did?” Matthew looked to Woodward for confirmation. Matthew looked to Woodward for confirmation.
The magistrate nodded and scratched a fresh mosquito bite on his gray-grizzled chin. ”I saw the knee at close quarters. It would be impossible for Johnstone to be the man who stole your gold coin.”
”Oh.” Matthew's brow knitted. His pride had taken a blow, especially following Nicholas Paine's reasonable explanation of his career as a pirate-hunter and how he came to roll his tobacco in the Spanish fas.h.i.+on. Now Matthew felt himself adrift at sea. He said, ”Well...” but then he stopped, because there was nothing to be said.
”If I were half as smart as you think yourself to be,” Bidwell said, ”I could build s.h.i.+ps in my sleep!”
Matthew didn't respond to this taunt, preferring instead to concentrate on keeping his injured shoulders from making contact with the seatback. At last Goode drew the carriage up in front of the mansion and Matthew was the first to step down. He then aided the magistrate, and in doing so discovered that Woodward was warm and clammy with fever. He also for the first time caught sight of the crusted wounds behind Woodward's left ear. ”You've been bled.”
”Twice. My throat is still pained, but my breathing is somewhat better.”
”Ben's due to bleed him a third time this evening,” Bidwell said as he descended from the carriage. ”Before then, might I suggest that the magistrate attend to his studying?”
”I plan on it,” Woodward said. ”Matthew, Dr. s.h.i.+elds would have something to ease your discomfort. Do you wish to see him?”
”Uh... beg pardon, suh,” Goode spoke up from the driver's seat. ”I have an ointment to cool the sting some, if he cares to use it.”
”That would be helpful.” Matthew reasoned that a slave would indeed have an able remedy for a whip burn. ”Thank you.”
”Yes suh. I'll fetch it to the house directly I barn the carriage. Or if you please you can ride along with me.”
”Goode, he doesn't care to visit the slave quarters!” Bidwell said sharply. ”He'll wait for you in the house!”
”One moment.” Matthew's hackles had risen at the idea of Bidwell telling him what he cared to do or not to do. ”I'll come along.”
”You don't want to go down there, boy! The place smells!” smells!”
”I am not so fragrant myself,” Matthew reminded him, and then he climbed back up into the carriage. ”I would like a warm bath after breakfast. Is that possible?”
”I'll arrange it for you,” Bidwell agreed. ”Do what you please, but if you go down there you'll regret it.”
”Thank you for your consideration. Magistrate, might I suggest you return to bed as soon as convenient? You do need your rest. All right, Goode, I'm ready.”
”Yes suh.” Goode flicked the reins, said a quiet, ”Giddup,” and the team started off again.
Peace Street continued past Bidwell's mansion to the stable and the slave quarters, which occupied the plot of land between Fount Royal and the tidewater swamp. It interested Matthew that Bidwell had referred to the quarters as being ”down there” but in fact the street never varied in its elevation. The stable itself was of handsome construction and had been freshly whitewashed, but in contrast the ramshackle, unpainted houses of the servants had an impermanent quality.
Peace Street pa.s.sed through the village of shacks and ended, Matthew saw, in a sandy path that led across a belt of pines and moss-draped oaks to the watchman's tower. Up at the tower's summit, a man sat under a thatched roof facing out to sea, his feet resting on the railing. A more boring task, Matthew could not imagine. Yet in these times of pirate raids and with the Spanish territory so close, he understood the need for caution. Beyond the tower, the bit of land that Matthew was able to see-if indeed it could be called something so solid-looked to be waist-high gra.s.s that surely hid a mora.s.s of mud and swamp ponds.
Smoke hung low over the house chimneys. A strutting rooster, his hens in close attendance, flapped out of the carriage's way as Goode steered the team toward the stable, beside which was a split-rail fence that served as a corral for a half-dozen fine-looking horses. Presently Goode reined the team in at a water trough and dismounted. Matthew followed. ”My house be there, suh,” Goode said, as he aimed a finger at a structure that was neither better nor worse than the other shacks around it, but might have fit within Bidwell's banquet room with s.p.a.ce to spare.