Four
Lucy jumped as the bell on the shop door jangled, announcing another visitor. When she realized it was only Mrs. Collins, who often stopped by to peruse the jewelry selections, she released a tense breath.
“You’re as jumpy as a frog on a hot rock,” her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder as he stood and walked behind the stool where Lucy perched at their workbench.
The first time the bell jangled earlier that morning, frayed nerves caused her to drop the rosette ring to which she had been adding one of the fifteen carved Burma rubies she had painstakingly cut and shaped.
Rather than risk losing a ruby by dropping it again, she put the ring away to complete later and avoided any task that required concentration and a steady hand.
Last night, after Mrs. Washington had assured her a courier would be by sometime today to retrieve the locket and the message it contained, Lucy had been on edge, wavering between excitement and fear.
It made no sense at all, but she had experienced the most unsettling feeling someone had followed her and Theo home.
Once she had finally gone to bed, sleep eluded her.
Lucy had awakened early, rushed downstairs, and half expected to see someone waiting at the shop door for her.
Regardless of her notions, the streets had been quiet and empty.
Resigned to seeing to her usual morning chores, the sound of a door slamming caught her by surprise, and she had spilled half a bucket of precious water on her skirt.
It was then, as she had shaken the water from the fabric, that she had concluded she might not be prepared for a life of intrigue and subterfuge.
Theo had been wound as tightly as a top when he had raced into the shop after he had completed his chores, but a whispered reminder that he couldn’t say anything to anyone sent him scampering upstairs to his room.
Lucy feigned polishing a watch while keeping one eye on the street outside. She had no idea what the courier would look like, but kept repeating the code word over in her mind, should anyone mention it in her presence.
The locket felt as though it might burn through her pocket and sear her skin. Anxious to turn it over before an enemy caught her with it, she had no idea what to do other than wait in an agitated state that worsened by the minute.
Her father convinced Mrs. Collins to purchase an expensive pair of pearl earrings set in gold.
The woman preened before the mirror they kept on the wall near the glass display case as her father placed the earrings in a small box, then tied it with a white ribbon before he accepted the money from Mrs. Collins, noted the purchase in his ledger, and had her sign, then he escorted her to the door.
“You seem not yourself today, Daughter. Did the heat keep you from sleeping well?” her father asked, walking behind Lucy and resuming his seat on his stool.
He was making an intricate bracelet, ordered by one of the men of the Continental Congress as a gift for his wife, who was not pleased about his being in Philadelphia.
Ward had spent hours making sure each silver link looked perfect. When it was finished, it would resemble a curving branch with leaves, all set with rose-cut diamonds.
Before she could stop herself, Lucy’s thoughts drifted to Branch Barton and the confident manner in which he had stood in the shop the previous afternoon, looking far more handsome than any man had a right to.
Although he wasn’t unkempt, something about him seemed slightly untamed.
She found that fact more worrisome than his attempts at talking her into giving him Mrs. Washington’s gloves.
Had he known about the locket? Had he been trying to steal it before it could make its way into the hands of the Continental Army?
Questions assailed her, doubts plagued her, and the knots in her stomach tightened.
“The heat, Lucy. Did it bother you last night?” her father asked, offering her a concerned glance.
“It was dreadfully warm,” she said, not wanting to tell even a slight stretch of the truth to her father.
It had been dreadfully warm, with hardly a breeze to blow in the open window, but that wasn’t the reason she had been unable to sleep.
No, it was the idea that she was about to turn into a spy that had kept her tossing and turning long into the night.
“This heat has been terrible, although it doesn’t seem to have kept people at home. We’ve had five sales already this morning,” Ward observed as he blew on a link in the bracelet, then studied his work through a small quizzing glass that magnified the details.
“It has been a busy morning,” Lucy agreed as she continued polishing the silver watch case. Under normal circumstances, she would have been thrilled by the number of shoppers who had not only visited their store but also made purchases.
A man walked by the window and looked in. Lucy’s hand stilled in mid-polish, wondering if he was the courier. When he continued walking, she forced herself to draw in a breath and resume polishing the watch.
Five minutes later, when she was still absently rubbing a polishing cloth over the watch, her father placed his hand over hers. “If you keep on that way, you’ll rub a hole through the case, Daughter.”
“Oh, I …” Lucy’s voice trailed off, uncertain what to say. She stood and carried the watch over to the shelf where they were displayed and set it between two gold watches.
“You seem quite distracted today, Lucy. I think you—”
“Papa! Mama wants Lucy and me to bring back a fish from the market,” Theo said, racing into the room and interrupting their father. “May we go? Please?”
“You may, Theo.” Ward grinned and ruffled Theo’s already mussed hair. “But you mind your sister.”
“I will,” Theo promised. “I’ll tell Mama we get to go!” He ran back to the kitchen.
Lucy watched as her father dug his fingers into the pocket of his cotton waistcoat and retrieved a few coins. He held them out to her, and she caught them in her hand.
“You and Theo get the fish your mother wants, and perhaps bread and cheese. I think a cold supper of cheese and fruit might suit us all quite well this evening.”
“I’ll see what I can find, Papa.”
Ward smiled as Lucy started to walk into the storage room so she could retrieve her hat and a basket from the kitchen.
“Take your time, Luce,” he said. “The fresh air will do you good. If you find a treat for you and Theo, enjoy it.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Lucy kissed her father’s cheek, then rushed to the kitchen, where Theo attempted to wiggle away from their mother while she made a valiant effort to subdue his hair with her dampened hands.
“I’ll wear my hat, Mama,” Theo said, snatching his straw hat off the hook by the door and yanking it on. The little boy detested wearing a hat and avoided it whenever possible. The fact that he settled it on his head without being told to was assurance he was eager to go on the errand.
Lucy hid a smile and pulled on her market bonnet.
The blue linen fabric of the hat was made from the same fabric as the dress she wore, although she hadn’t intentionally planned for them to match today.
The market bonnet sat low on her forehead, with a firm brim that shaded her eyes and held its shape to the crown of her head, where the fabric was softly gathered and puffed out, allowing it to rest comfortably over the hair she had pinned up upon rising that morning.
She especially liked the twisted caul on the bonnet that gave it a bit of an artistic look.
She tied a knot with the bonnet’s ribbons at the back of her head beneath her upswept hair, then reached for the basket on the kitchen’s square table.
“Papa said to get bread and cheese for a cold supper, along with fish for dinner. Is there anything else you would like us to purchase, Mama?” Lucy asked, watching as her mother rolled out crust for a tart.
Theo had been sent out first thing that morning to pick the ripe strawberries in their garden, and had been pleased to find enough to make one of their favorite summer sweets.
“If Mary Thatcher is there, see about purchasing some of her blueberries. They are simply the best,” Cleta said, brushing her forehead on her shoulder, then returning her attention to the crust.
“I’ll see what I can find, Mama.” Lucy gave her mother an impetuous hug, kissed her soft cheek, and then she and Theo hurried out the back door.
Theo skipped along beside Lucy as she tugged on her gloves while they walked around to the front of the building, and then they headed toward the market located near the wharf.
Lucy kept alert as they walked toward the market, listening to Theo chatter about everything from the bug he had found on a cabbage when he was picking strawberries, to a cloud that looked like a heart.
They had just crossed a street when a beggar held up a hand from his seat leaning against the bricks of a shop.
A filthy piece of cloth covered where his legs should have been.
Pity seared through Lucy, and she dug into her pocket, retrieving a coin and giving it to the man with a gentle smile.
A tattered hat shaded his face, but he nodded at her, and she heard a whisper of “Bless you, miss” before she latched onto Theo’s hand and they continued on their way.
The nearer they drew to the wharf, the number of people out and about increased.
The air was thick with the odors of unwashed bodies, tar, wet wood, fish, and flowers, the last of which seemed an odd contribution to the otherwise rather repugnant blending of scents.
Several people had buckets overflowing with freshly cut flowers, adding color and a pleasant fragrance to the day.