Charles’s older brother, Hugh, was crushed by the debts their father, the Baron West, left when he died. A man of potent charm and good cheer, the late Baron, freed from middle-class skills, spent money. He never made it. Maureen wanted a title for her much younger, divinely handsome husband, Jeffrey Holloway, who had been a cabinetmaker who worked with his father until she snapped him up.
Maureen wanted a pedigree. No matter that titles didn’t exist in America. They existed everywhere else. The thought of people addressing Jeffrey as “My Lord” when husband and wife traveled pleased her greatly. Now, for a handsome price, the penniless Baron would adopt the handsome cabinetmaker, pleasing everyone.
“What will Charles do?” Catherine wondered as Rachel’s husband, the younger son, stood to gain nothing from the arrangement he had engineered. But then, younger sons tended to be a burden in England and were farmed out to the Navy, Army, or Church. More enterprising younger sons might take a different route, practice law and, if inclined to study, even take up medicine, but most of these men were unsuited for such labor. The odd duck might become a Don at Oxford, but one thing that was certain was that younger sons would need to scramble. If their older brother, once having the title, chose, he could and often did provide his siblings with some form of allowance. Sisters needed more supervision than brothers and a beautiful sister could restore depleted finances in a heartbeat, literally.
“Charles will accept that Jeffrey has been adopted. He is free. That’s the word he always uses. Free.”
“So many rules, the Old World. Well, I guess we have a few of our own.” Catherine smiled. “Father received another letter from Roger Davis. He said only forty-one men are left at the convention in Philadelphia, but it is drawing to a close.”
“I should be interested. I know you and Father are, but I imagine men with paunches seated in that wicked heat, talking, talking, talking.”
“Well, yes.” Catherine threw her arm over her sister’s shoulders. “Tell me about the organ.”
Rachel brightened. “Oh, it’s much larger than I anticipated. When I go there I hear them testing it, all speaking German. Charles knows a bit because of serving with the Hessians. And then there’s the bellows. Who will keep that going? But truly, you and Father must come when we have our first service with music.”
“You’ve become a believer.”
“I’ve certainly learned about Martin Luther.” Rachel laughed, then quieted. “I have. I do believe.”
“You have always been more spiritual than myself. But what I have learned is we can no longer pray for the health of the King and we are no longer Church of England. I go because it’s expected of me and truthfully it’s good for business. I like the ritual but I don’t believe. You believe. Maybe that’s the difference between the Episcopal Church and the Lutheran Church. To me it’s essentially the old religion but changed so Henry VIII could get his way. Somehow that doesn’t seem very Christian, does it?”
“No, but Catherine, the popes often had more power than the kings. It was inevitable they should become corrupt.”
“Father said something yesterday when we were working.” Catherine watched the sun dip below the Blue Ridge Mountains, the blue now intense. “He said, ‘Once our form of government is truly settled, and Madison’s separation of church and state—which we have here in Virginia—is part of the nation, I predict, and mark my words, that all these watered-down faiths will pop up. We’ll even have Presbyterians. There will be no end to this.’ So I said, ‘Father, aren’t we watered-down Catholics?’ He waved his hand. ‘That doesn’t count. We were forced out of the Church of Rome.’ ”
Rachel laughed. “I can just see him. Father is fond of pronouncements.”
Hoofbeats caught their attention. They turned to view Jeddie Rice, slender, gifted with horses, riding toward them with Ralston. Ralston, sixteen, worked in the stables but lacked Jeddie’s gifts, although he wasn’t bad with horses. Jeddie, nineteen, disdained Ralston. The two were competitive and had completely differing personalities.
“Miss Catherine. Miss Rachel. Mr. Ewing says don’t forget the Saltonstalls will be arriving today. He says wear your best for dinner.”
“Thank you, Jeddie. We’ll just wrap ourselves in silk and satin.” Catherine emitted a long sigh.
Rachel smiled at her sister. “You can wear anything and look ravishing.”
“Ugh.” Catherine crossed her arms across her perfect bosoms, looking up at the two young slaves and their horses. “Those two will make good farm mounts. If Timmy is smooth, maybe we can train him for Father. Can’t put Mr. Ewing on a blooded horse.”
A blooded horse was bred using riding horse blood, as opposed to a draft horse blood, mixed with royal blood. The early ones had been imported from England and would become what we know now as Thoroughbreds.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jeddie agreed, as he and Catherine worked closely together.
Ralston, puffing out his chest, bragged. “I put Crown Prince through his paces today. Give me enough time and I can make him for Mr. Ewing even though he is blooded.”
Jeddie’s lip curled. He began to speak, but Catherine headed him off. “Ralston, my father is slowing down a bit. We must look out for him. No blooded horses now or ever. You all go on back and Jeddie, tomorrow at sunrise.”
The two young men turned the horses, riding back to the large, beautiful stable just visible in the distance.
“What an ass you are.” Jeddie spat.
“At least I know what to do with my ass.” Ralston dug at Jeddie, who ignored him.
The sisters walked back toward their respective houses.
“The men will talk about banking and the proceedings of the convention in Philadelphia.” Rachel wrinkled her nose. “I dutifully try to look interested.”
“I am interested but I can’t say anything.” Catherine thrust her hands into the pockets of her work skirt, made of strong, everyday cotton. “Father keeps returning to the law. He says if we don’t respect the new laws, then we’ll fall apart. He fears militias will be called out if people become disobedient. It’s possible. No matter what they’ve come up with in Philadelphia, plenty of people will find fault with it.”
“I don’t understand it. Charles explains it to me but he contrasts it with Parliament and I don’t understand Parliament either. Do you know a man can be elected or stand for Parliament and he doesn’t even have to live in the place? How can they do that?”
“Money. Money buys everything in England. I think that’s one of the reasons they made mistakes over here. Many of those officers bought their commissions. Didn’t know a thing.”
“Charles’s father bought him his commission.”
Catherine quickly replied, “He had to, but your husband studied. He is a most unusual man, Charles, and as for getting captured at Saratoga, John says Charles and his men fought hard and honorably and were basically left to fend for themselves. The British couldn’t bring up their cannon. Anyway, that’s what my husband says and you know the two of them are now two peas in a pod.”
They laughed.
“Men get over things.”
“Most do. That’s what I hope about this convention. Father frets over the war debt. He’s not so interested in the other issues, which I guess have had all those delegates in a temper. But Father wants to know how we are going to pay for the war and how a new government can bring the states to heel.”