Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The Boyd Family
As promised, the mealtime gong struck at six, and Benjamin mentally floundered while heading downstairs to join the family.
His new backstory was simple enough. He was aware the Boyds had friends in the maritime business, and thus, decided on the Ashbys being a shipbuilding family.
Despite the proud demeanor he’d adopted for this role, he felt an uncomfortable, nettled heat burning beneath his collar while William showed him into the sitting room.
Both Clara and Catherine curtsied upon his arrival, and were bedecked in ostentatious ruffles and skirts.
Benjamin knew absolutely nothing about fashion, so all he could discern was the former was dressed in a flashy green gown that brought out the stunning jade fire in her eyes, and the latter was wearing an equally flashy gown of pale yellow.
Jedediah Boyd—who hadn’t even spared him a friendly glance—was tall, thin, and sour-faced, with a powdered bag-wig and sharp, beady little eyes beneath a pair of spectacles.
He snorted through his bulbous nose, retrieving his pocket watch to check the time.
This, unfortunately, seemed to aggravate him all the more.
“No good upstarts!” he exclaimed, startling all present company. “The nerve of some people!”
“Is something wrong, Father?” Clara asked, arching a brow.
“Never you mind,” he snapped. “Just know that in this world, you are never to trust the word of a commoner. They make plans and immediately break them.”
Awkwardly, Benjamin offered a thin smile as his condolence. He had a feeling “Mr. White” was the cause of Boyd’s turmoil. If this was, indeed, the case, his persona wouldn’t be welcome back any time soon.
Grumbling to himself, Jedediah led the group into the dining area, then hotly claimed his seat at the head of the table. The foot of the table—where his wife was to go, Benjamin presumed—was empty, and Deborah Boyd was nowhere to be found.
After a servant pulled out the remaining chairs, Clara seated herself next, and once Catherine was settled across the table, Benjamin hesitated before moving to sit alongside the haughty redhead.
Catherine hadn’t spoken a word to him, and thus far, Jedediah was a no-starter, so Clara’s foul openness seemed his safest bet.
“You look like a fish out of water,” Clara teased him, unfolding her napkin after Jedediah led the custom.
Gaping at her, and probably resembling the fish of which she spoke, Benjamin tied his own napkin around his neck.
“I feel a little ill,” he said, which wasn’t far from the truth.
He did feel hopelessly sick, what with everyone’s eyes darting between him and Jedediah.
Was he supposed to do something? Was everyone waiting on him?
Mercifully, Jedediah spoke and recaptured everyone’s attention. “You must accept my apology, Mr. Ashby,” he said. “I wasn’t aware you’d be coming to town, so I have not yet prepared a proper welcoming party. I can arrange something for next week, if you can afford it into your schedule.”
Benjamin forced a smile and nodded. “But of course, Mr. Boyd; this is beyond sufficient. Thank you, sir.”
Jedediah seemed mollified, and tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Alas, we normally would’ve had other guests, but again: I did not know of your pending arrival.”
And thank God for that, Benjamin thought. He wasn’t sure he could withstand an audience beyond the three—five, if he counted William and the other servant—gathered in his presence.
“Perhaps I can invite some gentlemen over for a drink tomorrow evening,” Jedediah decided. “That, at the very least, can get you acquainted with the very best in town.”
Despite Benjamin’s inner panic, he perked up. A night with the wealthiest, most influential men in New York could prove promising. “Yes,” he agreed, trying not to sound too eager, “yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you, sir.”
While his mind raced with the possibilities, four servants of European descent entered the room and served vegetables and soup from tureens.
Benjamin thanked each in turn, which earned him a sharp, disapproving glare from Jedediah.
The paling servants appeared startled by his politeness, and they ducked their heads, doling out everyone’s portions while sweating faintly beneath their powdered wigs.
Clara chose to lead by Benjamin’s example, and turned to the servant at her right. “Thank you, Harrelson,” she said, beaming in a bright, beatific way. “It smells heavenly.”
“Clara!” Jedediah snapped.
Mulish, her green eyes cut toward him and she pursed her mouth. “Yes, Father?”
“There are certain hierarchies that must be kept, and you are currently in violation. Ladies do not speak to the hired help.” Jedediah waved a hand. “Not beyond one’s requests, of course.”
“Oh, dear.” Feigning ignorance, Clara pressed a hand to her cheek and gave an overdramatic gasp.
“Why, I suppose I am in violation! Silly me, thinking that a distinguished gentleman such as Mr. Ashby must surely know hierarchies, and therefore the proper way to address them. After all, I am only a foolish, bottle-headed chit. How could I possibly hope to know the ways of the world?”
“Clara, don’t,” Catherine hissed from across the table, shaking her head.
Discomfited, the servants all exchanged glances, and it was William who stepped forward with a tray of pre-carved mutton. He set it down before Jedediah, then backed away upon seeing the older man’s contemptuous look.
Jedediah lifted the knife and fork for serving, and irritably set a piece of meat onto his own plate.
Benjamin’s mouth was suddenly much, much too dry. Clearing his throat, he deflected, “And what of your wife, sir? Is she unwell? Charlotte speaks of Mrs. Boyd quite often and fondly, so I’d been hoping to make her acquaintance.”
The furrow between Jedediah’s brows softened, however slight. “She’s presently resting,” he muttered. “Dear Deborah is a lady of society, so she tends to fall into exhaustion quite often.”
Clara snorted. “That’s Father’s romantic way of saying Mother is in her flowers. She always works herself into a state, so I trust she won’t be coming down until tomorrow morning.”
Jedediah tossed his fork in disgust. “For God’s sake, Clara, how many times must I tell you? When your mother is—”
“What?” Clara refuted, equally annoyed. “A woman’s monthly blood is hardly a scandal, Father, so I wish you wouldn’t treat it as such! Why, if anything, it’s wholly natural and as God intended!”
Benjamin’s mouth dropped. Never in his life had he ever heard such open, bold-faced talk, aside from men jeering about lying with women during their cycle.
Slowly, a flush from secondhand embarrassment stained his cheeks, and when he caught Catherine’s gaze from across the table, she shared in his blush and looked away.
By this point, Jedediah was positively seething.
The vein at his left temple pulsed along with his indignation, and muttering about wayward girls, he turned to Benjamin and apologized, “You must forgive her, Mr. Ashby. My daughter suffers from bouts of unruliness; all curable, from what I’m told, but the war hasn’t allowed us much luxury for tending to her problem. ”
“My problem is this is the only way I gain any acknowledgment,” Clara snapped. “How else am I to earn your oh-so-fleeting attention, Father?”
Jedediah ignored her, encouraging William to pass around the mutton. While the young man served the meat, other servants placed dishes of shellfish, corn, beans, and fruit onto the table.
Benjamin’s stomach rumbled, yet he felt disgust over the superfluous spread. While the Continental Army, not to mention the very residents of New York, had meager meals, these blustering peacocks ate, and they ate well. How did they manage it? Did Mayor Mathews guarantee their full bellies?
Realizing he needed to blend in, Benjamin swallowed his pride and indicated to the servants for more food; at his request, each helping spooned onto his plate was as scant as possible. Every morsel sent a pinprick of guilt into his heart.
While Catherine engaged Jedediah in conversation, Benjamin took one bite before abandoning the meal in favor of his wine.
“You have the appetite of a bird,” Clara observed, smiling at him. “Surely, you cannot be courting my sister. She is a regular knight of the trenches.”
Benjamin set down his glass and chuckled, though the sound came out strained. “You’re too hard on your sister,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”
“Especially in the future, when she’s carrying your spawn,” she agreed.
Humming in thought, Clara added, “Lottie has it in her head that that’s all she’s good for.
And in a way, I suppose that is a woman’s place.
But I’d rather dive head-first into the sea.
I couldn’t imagine anything more dreadful. ”
Benjamin looked over at her, aghast. “Child-rearing? Dreadful?”
“You’re right,” Clara said, pursing her mouth. “It’s hardly dreadful. Terrifying, perhaps, is a much better word.”
Glancing toward Jedediah to ensure he and Catherine were still chatting, Benjamin looked back at the redhead and frowned. “But you would have a nursemaid,” he reminded her. “You’re afforded a luxury most women are not.”
“And you are afforded a luxury my sister is not,” Clara hissed, the fire in her voice astonishing him.
“While you’ll inevitably rake in the spoils from Lottie’s womb, she will have to worry about whether or not it’ll be her last year on earth.
” Furiously, she stabbed her fork into her piece of mutton, her knuckles turning bone white.
“There is a reason we womenfolk turn our wedding gowns into burial shrouds, you realize.”
Paling, Benjamin appraised her in stunned silence. This woman was confounding. Who on earth had raised her? Surely not the proud, taciturn man at the head of the table…