Bon Marche by Chet Hagan Read Free Book Online

having a ship’s surgeon as a tutor, apparently under the patronage of the Comte de Grasse, admiral of the French fleet. If this be true—and I have no reason to doubt it—it demonstrates the young man’s ability to ingratiate himself with personages above his social rank; no mean talent, I’m sure you will agree.
    Samuel came into the room with a large silver tray. He placed it on a table between the two men and poured tea into two dainty porcelain cups, adding a dollop of thick yellow cream to each. Charles took his cup and tasted the brew rather tentatively; he had never had cream in tea before. It was delicious.
    The plantation owner paused in his reading to sip at the tea.
    I cannot vouch for his morality, having known him for only a day. I know you must think me mad for sending him to you with such limited opportunity to gauge his qualifications for any kind of employ. Yet, as you are already aware, I pride myself on an ability to quickly judge the personalities of men (an ability that has served me well over the years), and I am much taken with this lad. I have told him only that I was going to suggest to you that you consider finding him a position. Nothing was mentioned about our earlier conversation regarding your search for a French tutor.
    â€œIf your evaluation of Mr. Dewey is in opposition to mine, so be it. Your saying yea or nay to him will in no way change our affectionate friendship. I pray that this finds you and your charming children in the bloom of health and contentment. I pray, too, that Abigail shall welcome the entreaties of your fine stallion, and that any issue therefrom might see fit to win a race or two.
    Statler folded the letter slowly and put it aside. “May I show you around Elkwood?”
    â€œSir…” Charles began hesitantly. “I’ve ridden a long way—a long way for me, that is—and I’m extremely tired.” He was embarrassed at having made the admission. “Might the inspection be postponed until—”
    â€œOf course,” Statler interrupted. “I should have been aware of the tedious ride you’ve had.”
    Charles forced a laugh, trying to make light of his predicament. “Tedious, sir, might not be the best descriptive word. My very bones ache, it seems.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYes. You see, Mr. Statler, I was never aboard a horse before yesterday.”
    â€œWhat! Good Lord, it’s a wonder you can walk at all! Sixty-odd miles in a couple of days is a test for an experienced horseman.”
    Dewey just grinned. He had made his point.
    â€œSamuel will show you to your room and make you comfortable so that you can rest for a few hours.” Statler chuckled. “Never on a horse before yesterday?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œWell, you’ll be called in time for dinner, even though you may have to eat it standing at the mantel.”
    III
    A massive crystal chandelier, lighted by as many as three dozen candles, hung high above the polished walnut surface of the oval dining table, which had been set with delicate rose-patterned china, gleaming silverware, and spotless linen napkins. In the center of the table stood a large cut-crystal bowl filled with water on which floated roses in a profusion of colors: red, pink, white, yellow. Roses in October? Charles had little knowledge of growing things, but he was certain that roses didn’t bloom in October. Yet the blossoms were real; he wondered what magic had been performed at Elkwood to accomplish that.
    There were five for dinner: Statler and Charles, a young man who was introduced as Andrew MacCallum without further immediate identification, and Statler’s two daughters.
    Katherine, the elder, was dark like the father, and her handsome face had his same squareness. Indeed, she was a feminine version of Marshall Statler. Her nut-brown eyes reflected the same self-assurance; there was even a hint of imperiousness. In command, as