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“Also, the very sight of your aghast face is going to send me into a fit of the giggles and the game will be up.”
“And you thought my plan was stupid,” Daniel grumbled in an outraged undertone as they followed the cart with the sleeping Riley away from the hubbub of the dock. “What if that officer had been a victim of the same disease himself? He might have kept you on board to care for him.”
“I had not considered that,” countered Nancy, taking his arm and compressing her lips in thought. “But then I could have given him some really vile medicine and still he would have wanted rid of me.”
“Is there no end to your invention?”
“I have always prepared myself for any disaster. During a battle one must have bandages ready at hand. I would assume one must sleep dressed ready to travel. I have drilled, you see, to be able to wake up and flee or fight at a moment’s notice. I know I was not much use in the beginning, but it was my first battle, Daniel. Did I account myself so very ill?”
He softened at the hopefulness in her young face. “I suppose not. Another woman might have swooned.”
“That would have been singularly useless, for then the pirate might have carried me to the captain’s cabin. Though, of course, I would fit through the window once Trueblood broke it, so I suppose I could have gotten away no matter what.”
“And if he had tied you?”
“I carry a knife in my stocking.”
“Is there nothing that would daunt you?” Daniel asked sternly.
“But Daniel! This was an adventure! I have been preparing for such things all my life. Think how gratifying it is to realize it has not all been in vain, that I can take effective action in an emergency.”
“You enjoyed all this?”
“No, not that man dying, of course, but the rest of it was not so bad. And I feel sure you would have enjoyed it, too, if your leg had not been aching.”
“My leg is fine. It was having you to care for that worried me,” he blustered.
“Well, now you see there was no need.”
“I grant that you slid though this situation on sheer gall and luck, but you have no idea what awaits you next.”
“Yes, isn’t it exciting?”
Daniel groaned.
Chapter Two (#ulink_25832c30-6b5e-5271-bb00-30b5f1d82f88)
Cook’s Hotel was a formidable brick house half-a-dozen blocks from Water Street, with a pair of ornate hitching posts by the front door and a fenced garden in the rear. Mrs. Cook was able to offer Nancy and her father one small room, though Nancy doubted they would have been admitted at all if not for Trueblood vouching for them and then helping her father up the stairs, over Mrs. Cook’s suspicious questions about his indisposition.
“Miss Riley may have Trueblood’s room for her use, and Trueblood can share with me,” Daniel told Mrs. Cook, taking that buxom lady aback with these high-handed orders.
“Why do you offer Trueblood’s room?” Nancy asked, before Mrs. Cook could protest.
“Because Daniel knows there are any number of disgusting saddle packs in his room,” Trueblood said, as he came down the stairs. “Also, mine has an excellent view of the river and a number of volumes on plants I hope you will avail yourself of.”
“But I cannot put you out. It looks to me as though this is your home.”
“I assure you, the invitation was on my lips as well, and it would have been a more gracious one than what Daniel ripped out with. But he was always one to rush headlong, unheedful of giving offense.”
“You make it difficult for me to refuse”, Nancy said ruefully, looking from one brother to the other, then to her bemused hostess.
“Do not, I beg you.” Trueblood bowed and kissed her hand, winning a satisfied smile from Mrs. Cook and a glare from Daniel.
“I suppose it will only be for a few days, until Papa decides what he means to do.”
“Well, now that’s all settled,” Mrs. Cook interrupted, to keep Daniel from replying. “How about a nice cup of tea in the parlor before dinner?”
“Let me help you,” Nancy offered, wanting to make sure she had an entrée to the kitchen.
“That’s very kind of you, but I have got two girls to help me, empty-headed though they may be,” Mrs. Cook said as she shepherded Nancy out. “I shall be glad of some female company at table rather than rough seamen or worse.” She cast a disparaging look at Daniel as they exited, and Nancy’s chuckle was lost in the bowels of the house.
Trueblood helped the limping Daniel up the stairs.
“Nancy said that French privateer pointedly asked where you were,” Daniel whispered. Once Trueblood had pulled the door shut behind them Daniel dropped down onto the bed.
“I caught a glimpse of Dupree on the French ship,” Trueblood answered, searching Daniel’s bureau and finally discovering a worn shirt, which he quickly reduced to bandages. “He did not seem best pleased to see me. But the privateer captain gave me a salute, the sort of gesture one reserves for a worthy opponent.” Trueblood demonstrated to Daniel.
“So I was right about Dupree.”
“Possibly, or Dupree may have been making new friends. He is, after all, French-Canadian.”
“Don’t be so gullible, Trueblood.”
“Just a counterweight to your suspicious nature, Daniel. The packet is in your trunk. Do you want me to take it round for you?”
“No need. It is no more than a few minutes walk.” Daniel got up with a grunt.
“Suit yourself, but you do look a sight.”
“I’ll change first.”
“A fresh bandage would not come amiss, either.”
“Oh, very well, but be quick about it.”
“Where is Daniel?” Mrs. Cook demanded when she came into the sitting room with the tea tray.
“He had an appointment,” Trueblood said, and received a skeptical look from Nancy, who was following her hostess with a plate of cakes.
“And on that leg,” Mrs. Cook scolded as she poured each of them a cup of tea.
“So long as no splinter remains in the wound, it were better it had some exercise to keep from stiffening up,” Nancy replied as she seated herself and looked contentedly around at the polished cherry furniture and cozy chairs. She was wearing a crisp white apron to hide the blood spatters on her gown, “Fancy having an appointment across all those miles of ocean and to arrive within an hour of the time.” She glanced at Trueblood over her teacup.
“All business, is our Daniel,” Trueblood countered before he gulped his tea and reached for the cake.
“Ah, yes, you are traders. How could I have forgotten?”
“We run pack trains of dry goods overland to Pittsburgh and bring back whiskey or furs.”
“Oh, I see, the main part of your business is not with England then. Is it worth it?”
Trueblood passed over her first remark to answer, “Not according to Daniel, but I find so much to interest me in the way of plants I would enjoy the trip even if we made nothing.”
“We were discussing herbs on the ship,” Nancy confided to Mrs. Cook. “But I had thought Trueblood’s interest entirely culinary.”
“Trueblood knows a great deal about healing herbs, as well,” Mrs. Cook said with a nod of approval.
“I have brought some dried ones from home—fennel, mint, tansy and the like. Also some seed. But I know nothing about what I might find growing here.”
“European herbs were introduced so long ago only my people know which ones are native,” Trueblood said proudly. “That is why I have been cataloging them and describing their uses. I have been told I can draw, so I have illustrated a volume to be published in London.”
“Oh, so that was why you were in England,” Nancy said, as though this were a matter of great concern to her.
“Yes, that was it.” Trueblood downed another cake.
“You should see his drawings.” Mrs. Cook beamed as she refilled Trueblood’s cup.
“We have many plants in common now, of course,” Trueblood continued. “Comfrey, foxglove, mint, yarrow…”
“Is there a place to come by a supply of Peruvian bark and some rhubarb, as well? I have not much with me.”
“I can get you a supply of Peruvian bark at the apothecary’s shop,” Trueblood volunteered.
“I have rhubarb in my garden, dear,” Mrs. Cook replied.
“Are you indeed practiced enough in the healing arts to use such things?” Trueblood enquired.
“Oh yes. You see, I have always thought my father would take me off to war with him, so I have studied all manner of fevers and know how to treat wounds. But in Somerset, most of the time I was called on to attend birthings. I must say, I like that better than illnesses, for usually the outcome is good even if the woman has had a difficult time.”
“It does not frighten you, being unmarried and all?” Mrs. Cook asked in a confidential tone.
“It did at first, but the people there are poor. If they had any money they would spend it on food, not on an apothecary. They never blame me if someone does not recover. They know I have done my best.”
“So you have lost…patients?” Trueblood asked, staring at her with those penetrating dark eyes.
“Three. Two mothers to fever and one baby, but he was short-term. I doubt anyone could have saved him,” Nancy said sadly.
“We have seen nothing like the yellow fever that has seized upon the city this summer,” Mrs. Cook offered.
“Describe the symptoms to me,” Nancy prompted as she took a sip of tea. “I have heard of it and had thought it no more than another sort of ague.”
“Violent fever and delirium, and the poor sufferer turns all yellow. That’s why they call it the yellow fever.”
“Jaundice? That is not consistent with the ague.”
Trueblood had been about to pick up another cake when Mrs. Cook continued, “The worst part comes when they start to vomit up the black blood, pints of it….”
“Internal ruptures, then. How many survive?” Nancy asked between bites of cake.
Trueblood decided against the cake and merely stirred his tea.
“Depends how hard they are taken with it. I know many who have survived.”
“I should like to talk to them. Do you suppose an application of leeches—”
Trueblood dropped his spoon into his saucer with a clatter. “Excuse me, I just remembered a pressing errand.” He exited the room and closed the door softly behind him.
“You know, I do not believe he was feeling quite well,” Nancy confided to Mrs. Cook.
“Possibly the sea voyage. Or it may take him a few days to adjust to our climate again.”
“Hmm,” Nancy said, thinking of Trueblood’s exertions of the past hours and why a discussion of illness would bother him. She could only think he did not like to mix such things with his food, which he plainly enjoyed. She would remember that. She wondered if Daniel had to play second best to Trueblood everywhere; Mrs. Cook clearly held the younger brother in more esteem. Nancy supposed so, since Daniel took the slights with resignation rather than resentment, almost as though it did not matter, in the face of more important issues. And what could be so important? That packet surely was not just commercial papers. Daniel was an extremely complex man and Trueblood was merely a part of his disguise, a distraction for anyone who might suspect he was up to something. She let her mind wander pleasantly over all the things she imagined Daniel might be up to.
Daniel had been admitted to a prosperous-looking house on York Street, then let into the library by a retainer who knew him on sight. As the room was empty, Daniel seated himself, then stood with a groan and proceeded to pace the room. Trueblood had bandaged his leg tightly again, but the wound looked to have broken open from the walking, for there was a growing bloodstain on his clean breeches. He was just applying another handkerchief to this when a middle-aged man entered the room and came to shake his hand.
“Daniel, good to see you. Why the devil are you limping?”
“Hello, Norton. Our ship was captured by a French privateer. I took a splinter.”
“God’s death. That was close. Is your brother all right?”
“Fine. Yourself?” Daniel sat with a grunt, as Norton motioned him to a chair.
“I had the yellow fever last month,” Norton said as he poured them each a brandy from the decanter on his desk. He handed a crystal goblet to Daniel. “Not a bad case by all accounts, but it nearly did me in. Tell me what is going forward in England.” Norton pulled his desk chair around to face Daniel.
“Little of interest to us, and except for a certain street in London, little climate for inciting rebellion on the American frontier.”
“You are assuming Britain has some control over the situation. They can no more control Canada at this great distance than they could control us. Witness Dorchester’s inflammatory speech to the Indians.”
“The English are as surprised by the antics of the Governor General of Canada as we are.” Daniel took a swallow of brandy. “They might not be unhappy if he did manage to incite the tribes to harass us. They will even turn a blind eye to the encroachment of Canadian forts on American soil, but will not, I think, go so far as to declare war.”
“Not yet, anyway, so long as we are neutral and the balance of trade with us is favorable.”
“I really think they make more profit off of us now that they bear no responsibility for us.”
“They certainly do off the shipping they capture and confiscate. That, too, could lead us into war if we are caught between two belligerent sea powers.” Norton glanced at Daniel’s leg. “Have you any unofficial dispatches?”
“Yes, here. I hope they are worth Trueblood’s swim, but I could not afford to be caught with them.”
Norton chuckled and plied his letter opener. “You are quite a pair, you and Trueblood. It would be a load off my mind if the British were planning nothing. Then I would have only the Canadians, the French and the Spanish to worry about. We believe they are all causing unrest on the frontier.”
“Perhaps even Secretary of State Hamilton,” Daniel suggested.
“Hamilton may be short-sighted, but the money for the war debts must come from somewhere. The whiskey tax is necessary. But is the tax the only cause of unrest? That is the question,” Norton added, breaking the seal on the first dispatch and tossing the paper aside after a quick perusal.
“The Canadians have always supplied the Indians with weapons. There is no need to further incite them. Watching their land being nibbled away takes care of that.”
“I see. You empathize with the natives as well. Trueblood’s influence?”
