A Buss from Lafayette (11 page)

By the time our stepmother, ungainly as she was, arrived, we had shucked off most of our clothes and were blissfully floating on our backs in the cool pond water.

We watched in amazement as Prissy carefully
lowered herself down at the side of the pond. She removed her own shoes, raised her skirt to her knees, and slid her feet into the water.

“This feels like heaven. I can see why you like it, Clara. Perhaps it might be possible for you to keep swimming here, when there is no one else around to witness it. And, by the way . . .” She paused, thinking. “What Clara said about your father giving you some charcoal to trade at the store, Joss? It has given me an idea. Each of you may have—let me see—five jars of preserves to use to buy something special for yourself. You have certainly earned it!”

I was staring up at the sky as her words floated down over me. Suddenly, I realized what they meant for carrying out my plan.

I stood straight up out of the water. “May I please take my five jars to the store right now? There is something very special that I wish to buy!”

“But the preserves are still too hot to handle, my dear. You cannot carry them all that way without burning your arms.”

“I shall put them in a basket lined with cloth. Please, ma’am. It would mean so much to me.”

“If it makes you happy to lug hot preserves to the store, I shall not stand in your way,” Prissy said, kicking her feet gently in the pond. “How you remind me of Caroline! When she got an idea in her head,
there was no way to dislodge it! But you must hurry up. I see thunderheads coming in from the west.”

Joss started swimming towards the edge of the pond. “Actually, ma’am, I want to go to Towne’s store, too. Put down my jars of preserves for credit towards my Troop uniform, you know,” he said. “I will hitch Fury up to the whisky so we can get there before the storm hits.”

“Thank you, Joss!” I cried. “Let’s go right now.” I clambered out of the water and raced into the house.

Changing into a clean dress and pantalettes in record time, I paused to glance into my looking glass. “Goodbye, ‘pumpkin head!’” I said, saluting my own image.

I raced down the stairs to the kitchen. There I packed up ten jars of jam in a large wicker basket, then I rushed out of the house lugging the heavy basket in my arms.

I found Joss out in the barnyard with Fury and the two-wheeled shay—sometimes called a “whisky” because it could “whisk” around other, heavier vehicles—ready to go. Not that our little town had much in the way of traffic to whisk around.

He playfully bowed to me. “Your carriage awaits, milady.” He reached for the basket and put it behind the seat. “I would put up the top, but I think we should get going right away.”

I glanced at the threatening sky, then clambered up over the wheel as quickly as I could—not an easy thing to do in a dress—and sat down on the seat next to my brother.

Without another word, Joss drove down the hill, passed the Putney Tavern, and turned onto the main road that sloped towards the village.

“Thank you for driving me to the store, Joss. How I wish I could just drive myself sometimes! I do not think it is fair that you get to drive the whisky and the wagon and the sledge all the time, and Father never lets
me
do any of it.”

“Would you like to try, Clarie? Fury is a quiet horse, despite her name. Here, take the ribbons.”

Joss handed me the reins. Just as I closed my hands around them and he let them go, however, there was a blinding flash of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder.

At this, Fury shied. All four of her feet left the ground, and when they came down again it was at a full run. I was so startled that I dropped the reins, and then watched in growing alarm as they flapped along the ground, far, far out of reach. The whisky careered towards the village, picking up speed as it went down the hill.

Then, as if to prove that things actually could get worse, the skies opened into a torrential downpour.

“What will we do, Joss?” I shouted, trying to be heard over the sound of the deafening thunder and the rain pounding on the road.

“Hold on for dear life!” Joss shouted back. “And pray that the rise in the road before the common will slow us down!” He peered intently through the wall of rain. “Wait, I think I see Dickon Weeks coming toward us. Maybe
he
can stop Fury. Maybe.”

We desperately watched Dickon gallop towards us through the rain. As he got closer, we saw him wheel Lancelot around to head the same direction as we were going. Then, when we drew even with him, Dickon spurred his horse alongside and reached over to grab Fury’s bridle. With great effort, he held on to that bridle and gradually brought the panicked horse safely to a stop, just short of the village common.

“That was a close call, Dickon!” exclaimed Joss, his voice shaking a little. “We are much obliged to you! It was the lightning that did it. Fury takes great exception to lightning.”

As if to illustrate this, another huge blast of lightning arched across the sky over our heads. Fury jumped again at the thunderclap that followed, but Dickon held tight to her bridle and kept her from bolting again.

“Lancelot hates lightning, too,” said Dickon, chuckling. “Although not so much as Fury, I guess.” He turned to me, the rain running down his face.
“It seems that every time I see you, your pigtails are dripping with water.”

I leaned forward, still a little breathless from my fright. “You are none too dry, yourself, Dickon! But my goodness, ’twas bravely done, stopping Fury as you did. Bravely done indeed. Maybe ‘Lancelot’ is not such a silly name after all. That was a rescue worthy of a knight! I thank you. Come, shake hands.”

Dickon slid off his horse, walked through the downpour to the side of the whisky, and shook my hand. “Quite an adventure for you, Clara. Here, I will help you down.”

“Very well. I believe I would prefer to walk the rest of the way, rather than chance it with Fury. She actually lived up to her name, for once! And maybe that was a little bit too
much
whisking for me!”

Dickon reached up and put his hands on my waist. I placed my hands on his shoulders, laughing a little nervously as he lifted me over the large wheel. It was obvious that Dickon was every bit as strong as Joss. Or stronger. My goodness. “Thank you, Dickon. This stupid skirt does make it hard to get in and out.”

“Are you going to help me down, too, Dickon?” teased Joss. “You are so very gallant and knightly today.”

“Sorry, Joss. I do not help people down who are not wearing ‘stupid skirts.’ But I can help you haul this
canvas top up. You might already be drenched, but perhaps a bit of shelter on the way back will keep you from getting any wetter.” He looked down at his own soaked linen shirt and leather riding breeches. “If such a thing is possible,” he added with a grin. A rather charming grin, actually.

I dashed to the store and watched from the doorway as Joss and Dickon wrestled the folding cover of the whisky up into place. Then, waving goodbye to Dickon, I marched inside, my heart pounding. At last I was going to see my plan succeed!

Saturday, June 25, 1825

What a confusing day!!

1. Hetty arrived (bad) but I did hear something about Hetty meeting the famous Nation’s Guest that made me feel a bit less jealous of her (good).

2. I learned that jealousy can be unpredictable (good and bad).

3. My stepmother surprised me with my birthday gift (good) and an unexpected demand (bad, although it turned out to be good).

4. There were even some (good) surprises from Dickon Weeks.

The only true disappointment today was that my hair continues to be very, very red. When will it turn the promised “beautiful shade of black????” I have run that comb through my hair so many times that my right arm is near to falling off! (So is my left!)

C
HAPTER 18

On Saturday morning, before we had even sat down to breakfast, Dr. Ebenezer Lerned arrived to examine my stepmother. When that was done, the physician declined an offer of breakfast, but accepted the offer of a cup of coffee. He joined us at the kitchen table while the rest of us breakfasted on eggs, ham, and potatoes.

“I suppose you have heard all about the big celebration welcoming Lafayette to Concord on Wednesday,” Dr. Lerned said. “Folks say it was the most exciting thing to happen around here since, well,
ever
. And before that, there were big doings in Boston, too, when Lafayette dedicated the Bunker Hill monument. How I wish I were still a student down there so I could have witnessed that historic event.”

I asked, “You went to Harvard College and then to Dartmouth to study medicine, is that not correct, Dr. Lerned?”

“I was fortunate enough to do so, yes.”

“Then your name is remarkably appropriate, sir.” I grinned.

The doctor chuckled. “You are not the first to notice
that, Clara, but I think you are the youngest. You do seem to enjoy making puns, so no wonder it caught your notice.”

“Annoying habit, puns,” put in Joss, his mouth full of ham.

Prissy’s sidelong look made him swallow rapidly. “No, puns are the mark of high intelligence, Joseph,” she said. “Your mother was the best pun-maker I knew. I was quite envious of her quicksilver wit.”

For a moment, she appeared lost in thought, and then she said something that surprised me. “Actually, Clara is just like Caroline. She has a very nimble mind. I regret that she has not been able to get more schooling.”

“As to that, ma’am,” Dr. Lerned said, “I have been meaning to talk to you about something. I have been thinking about starting a school in Hopkinton for older students. I know that you worked for many years as a teacher in Boston, and I would like to consult you about setting up such a school. We are thinking of calling it ‘Hopkinton Academy.’”

“Older students? You mean
my
age?” I said breathlessly.
My goodness,
I thought,
all my dreams might be coming true after all. Yesterday, the comb; today, the possibility of going to a real academy.

“Oh, yes, your age and older. Although it will likely
take some time to set my plan in motion, so you would be older yet before you are able to enroll.” Dr. Lerned peered at me from under his heavy, arched eyebrows. I always thought that they made him look a bit like a devil, although quite an amiable one.

“I would be most eager to attend, sir,” I said.

“I believe you would be an ornament to any classroom, my girl,” the doctor went on, much to my astonishment. “You have a mind as bright as your hair. I have always thought so.”

My “bright” mind was whirling with all the unusual attention it was getting. Still, it managed to send the right words to my mouth, along with a blush to my cheek.

“I thank you, sir,” I said politely. I glanced at my stepmother and was surprised to see that
she
was blushing as well.

“I would be most happy to confer with you about your school, sir,” she said, almost shyly. “I must admit I have missed the classroom, although, of course, I would not have been allowed to teach after I married, even had I stayed in Boston.”

I was dumbstruck. I had always thought she married Father to escape the drudgery of teaching.

I was still trying to fit this new information into my brain when Prissy asked the doctor if he knew anything
more of General Lafayette’s travel plans. “Will he be coming through here? I would like the children to see him, if they can.”

“Not sure, ma’am. After the Concord celebration, he and his retinue went to Maine. But I believe he will be coming back to Concord tomorrow night, before leaving for Vermont on Monday.”

Father smiled. “I am afraid you are shocking my wife, Doctor. She has strict views about traveling on the Sabbath.”

“For a great man such as General Lafayette, I shall make an allowance, Samuel,” his wife said briskly, but her eyes revealed her amusement at his teasing.

“We must hope that your baby does not decide to arrive tomorrow, then, for I doubt
I
would qualify as such a great man,” Dr. Lerned commented wryly. “And as Reverend Hatch often reminds us, no one is supposed to
labor
on the Sabbath. Except the good parson himself, I suppose. And giving birth involves a good deal of labor, ma’am, for the both of us.”

He assured her that she would not be confined for at least another week, then put down his cup and pushed back his chair. “Cannot stay here gossiping all day, Samuel. I must be off.” He looked at his patient. “I shall see you soon, Mrs. Hargraves—but not
too
soon, I hope.”

He bade us all farewell and went outside.

“Oh, Samuel,” said my stepmother, “I am so glad there is such an able physician in Hopkinton to attend me at this birth.”

“The Hopkinton doctors are
all
quite capable, my dear, even Dr. Flagg,” Father replied. “And although Joseph Flagg is not particularly reliable, he is competent enough when he’s sober. I am glad we have secured the services of Ebenezer Lerned for your confinement, however.”