Melody leapt to her feet when I entered the dining room, fairly bounced across the carpet and smothered me with a hug. ‘Mrs Ives! You’re all well!’
My stomach muscles were still sore from two days of vomiting, and I tried not to wince as I untangled myself from her embrace. I smiled, looked into her emerald eyes and tapped her on the chin with my index finger. ‘Thank you. I’m glad to be back, too, Melody.’
Melody grabbed my hand and led me around the table to my customary chair. She dragged it out from the table and helped scoot it back in after I sat down.
Gabe glanced up from his porridge. ‘We’re going to see the burning of the Peggy Stewart today, Mrs Ives. It’s a big ship with a lot of tea on it.’
I helped myself to a soft boiled egg. ‘Are you, now?’
‘Are you coming, too?’ Melody asked as she reclaimed her own seat.
Jack looked up from his paper, another facsimile of the Maryland Gazette. ‘Now, Melody, don’t you overtax Mrs Ives. Remember, she’s been ill.’
‘I feel very well, thank you, Mr Donovan. And I’m very much looking forward to the burning of the Peggy Stewart. The last time I saw a boat go up in flames, it was in Cambridge, Maryland.’ I winked at Melody. ‘It wasn’t exactly planned.’
I had captured Gabe’s attention, too. ‘What happened to it?’
‘Gas fumes had built up in the engine compartment. When the captain turned the key to start the engine, there was a spark. Kaboom! Fortunately, he was able to jump overboard.’
Gabe turned to his father, eyes wide. ‘Are they going to burn a real boat?’
‘I don’t know, son. Do you, Mrs Ives?’
I whacked the top off my egg with the edge of my knife. ‘I have absolutely no idea, having been out of the loop for a couple of days, but LynxE isn’t particularly tight-fisted with their dollars – can you imagine how much they had to pay to get David Morse to play George Washington? So it’ll probably be quite a production.’
‘What shall I wear, Mrs Ives?’ Melody wanted to know.
‘The dress you wore to church on Sunday would suit, I should think. The pink one with all the bows?’
‘And you should wear your blue, Mrs Ives. The one with the ruffles running down the front and the tiny seed pearls. I think that’s so beautiful!’
‘Why, thank you.’ I leaned closer and whispered, ‘Shall we leave our wigs at home, then?’
‘Oh, yes, please, Mrs Ives. It itches like crazy.’
‘We’ll save them for the ball.’ I salted my egg and dug in, not realizing how hungry I was until I was scraping the inside of the shell and looking around for another one. Jack passed me the biscuits with ham when I asked for them, and I was happily munching away when Alex said, ‘Women often think that men aren’t particularly interested in fashion, Miss Donovan, but may I suggest that I’m the exception? For the outing today, I’ll be wearing a pale blue suit with silver braid and I’ll have a matching blue cockade on my hat.’ While Melody stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, he continued. ‘And I’m honored to say, that Miss Amy Cornell has agreed to accompany me.’
‘Cool!’ Melody cooed.
My mouth was half ajar, too, thinking, too much, too soon, Amy. You’re treading on dangerous ground. What if Drew…? I pushed the thought away. ‘Are you coming, too, Michael?’ I asked instead.
‘Indeed I am. I imagine the whole household will be there.’ He waved a fork. ‘Founding Father says.’
Jack took a sip of coffee. ‘Mrs Ives,’ he said. ‘Normally I would have consulted you first, but since you were, uh, indisposed, I told the servants they could have the day off.’
‘Perfectly appropriate, Mr Donovan,’ I said. ‘From noon on?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ll speak to Karen, then, about laying out a cold buffet this evening.’
‘I already took the liberty.’ He stood, laid his napkin on the table. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have some accounts to take care of.’
One by one, they left the table, leaving me to savor my coffee alone. I can’t say that I minded.
Later, following a trip to the privy, I finally had a chance to check the wall where I’d left the message in the bottle for Paul all those days ago.
To my delight, the bottle was gone.
It seemed like the entire state of Maryland had turned up for the burning of the Peggy Stewart, which had taken place exactly two-hundred-thirty-eight years before. For the Patriot House residents, on the other hand, yesterday was today: October 19, 1774.
We gathered in the hallway – chatting and giggling in anticipation – and left the house together just as the long case clock was striking two. Jack Donovan, Patriot, in the lead, looked resplendent (I admitted reluctantly) in his black wool suit, wearing a tricorn hat over his powdered wig and carrying a cane. I scooted along behind, followed by Melody who did her best to mind her little brother while at the same time curtseying and waving to the crowds like a royal bride.
Alex strolled alongside Amy, Michael (I was pleased to see) escorted French, Jeffrey strutted on bravely alone, poor thing, followed by Karen and her son, Dex, who kept running ahead, wild with excitement, so she had to keep herding him back.
We proceeded en masse toward the harbor, along streets thronged with people, both residents and tourists, many of whom had turned up wearing colonial costumes. By now, it was no secret what was going on at Patriot House. Gawkers often gathered on the street outside the house, cameras at the ready. We were used to it.
Cameras were out in force – Derek and Chad had been supplemented by two additional cameramen from LynxE – and the boys in black had competition from the networks, too. As we pushed through the crowds in V-formation, Jack still in the lead, I caught sight of television crews from WBAL in Baltimore as well as WRC and WJLA in Washington, D.C. Maryland Public TV caught up with us at the corner of Dock Street and Randall, and no matter where we were, cell phone cameras recorded our every move.
The area around the Market House and City Dock had been cordoned off using the same portable chain link fencing used for the two annual boat shows – sailing and power – that had concluded the previous two weekends respectively. Only appropriately-costumed spectators were allowed inside.
As we marched down City Dock, costumed vendors dressed especially for the occasion popped up everywhere, roaming the streets and handing out stick candy to the crowds. I watched as a pair of pint-sized Davy Crockets grabbed more than their share of the sweet, then offered pieces to Gabe and Dex as we paraded by. (An offer they couldn’t refuse!)
‘Where are we going to stand?’ Gabe asked me as he ripped the waxed paper off his candy and stuck the end in his mouth.
‘On the dock, I think, over there,’ I said, pointing in the direction of the Harbor Queen tour boat where a white canopy at water’s edge was decked with bunting decorated with the familiar LynxE logo.
‘Oh, goody. Maybe I can sit down. My feet are killing me,’ Melody complained.
But there were no chairs, only shade. Being under the canopy afforded a bit of relief from the crowds pressing in around us, however, while at the same time putting us on display.
Once we were under the canopy, Amy, wearing the peach dress I had given her, sidled up to me. ‘Just checking to see how you’re feeling, Mrs Ives. You OK?’
‘I’m fine, Amy, honestly. A little tired maybe, but I’m not going to upchuck all over the mayor.’ I pointed with my gloved hand to a young man dressed in white breeches and a black, gold-buttoned frock coat who was making a beeline for Jack Donovan from across the quay.
‘That’s the mayor? How old is he? Fifteen?’
I giggled. ‘I think he’s thirty-eight.’ I poked her in the stays with my elbow. ‘Shhh. We’re about to be introduced.’