Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House(76)

“Very good.” He nodded his approval. “There are many in our area who have ties up there. I am sure they will be happy to welcome you.”

My heart thumped at the idea of word traveling down from Philadelphia, but I reassured myself that I would soon find Pan. Meanwhile, I would avoid most people and hope that word of any scandal involving me would not reach these rural parts.

“And where will you stay?” Addy asked.

“That has not yet been decided,” I said. “I was hoping to find an establishment outside of Edenton where I might observe the birds in the wild. Perhaps I could find lodging on a farm or a working plantation.”

“Well, Father,” she said, “why don’t we have Mr. Burton stay with us?”

Caught unaware, I looked nervously at her father and then at her. “That is kind, Miss Adelaide, but I am looking to board somewhere within the vicinity of a place called Southwood. It is located—”

She gave me an open-eyed stare. “The land is next to ours!” she said.

Startled, I mumbled something to her about the coincidence.

The father turned to me. “It is true, we are neighbors of Southwood.” His eyebrows lowered. “But why Southwood?”

While traveling with Henry, I had already planned this lie, and now it came easily. “Apparently, it is a region that has an unusually large collection of birds I wish to study.”

“Well, we do have plenty of birds in the area,” he said, “though I’ve never given them much thought.”

Then came a sudden idea. With a personal introduction, this ordeal might be over with sooner that I had anticipated. “Are you familiar with the owners of Southwood? Are they friends of yours?” I asked hopefully.

“We have been neighboring farms for many years, but I’m afraid the owner is not in residence.”

“So it is not a working farm?” I asked, wondering why, then, slaves were needed.

“Oh, no, it is a working farm. Cotton, wheat, flax, they grow it all on a large scale. The owner and his wife live in Raleigh, but it is managed and overseen by Bill Thomas.”

“Is it a place where I might seek lodging?”

“I’m afraid it is not set up for visitors,” he said.

“I see,” I said, disappointed.

“Father, I insist that we invite Mr. Burton to stay with us,” Addy said. “Perhaps he can be persuaded to give us some art lessons?” She turned to me with the question, then looked back to her father. “You know how Mother always wanted that for us.” From the look on the father’s face, I saw the trump card that Addy played by invoking her mother’s name.

“Adelaide. I was about to extend an invitation, had you not spoken for me.” Mr. Spencer shifted his position in my direction. “Mr. Burton, what do you say? We are within walking distance of Southwood, though I am certain we have the same birds on our land that they have on theirs. If you decide otherwise, I will take you over myself and introduce you to Mr. Thomas, though I warn you, he is not the type to have you tramping through his property.”

I could not have wished for a more favorable resolution. If all went well, my imposition would be short-lived. “Well,” I said, speaking aloud as I thought it through, “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting this kind offer. I don’t want to take advantage, but it would certainly serve me well, particularly if you would be kind enough to give me an introduction to . . . Mr. Thomas, did you say?”

Mr. Spencer gave a quick nod.

“Do come! It would make the house cheerful. Since Mother . . .” Addy trailed off.

I looked to the father. I said, “I will do so if you would allow me, in exchange for a bed, to offer some watercolor classes to your daughters while I am in your home.”

“How wonderful!” Miss Addy sank back against her seat.

“And you, Miss Patricia?” I asked. “Are you in favor of learning to paint?”

She looked at me shyly with her deep-set brown eyes. “I am,” she said, “although of course you cannot expect me to do as well as Addy. I am only nine, and she is—”

“I’ll soon be sixteen,” Addy interjected.

“Art is not a competition,” I said to Patricia. “If you have a natural inclination for it, art is a gift that you may choose to develop or not, regardless of age.”

“Well put,” said their father. “It was our good luck to share this last leg of our journey with you, Mr. Burton, and we welcome you to our home. Be assured that your presence will provide a much needed distraction. It will be difficult not to have Mrs. Spencer at home to greet us.” He turned his head to gaze out the window. Patricia clutched her father’s arm and dropped her head against it, as Addy turned to stare out the opposite window.


WHILE THE COACH rolled on and the girls napped, Mr. Spencer told me of his wife’s recent death in childbirth. Taking the girls to visit relatives in Williamsburg was his attempt to help them all with their grief. Needing some time alone to adjust to his sorrow, he had intended to leave the girls in Williamsburg for the summer months, but when it came time for his departure, they had carried on so that he felt he had no choice but to bring them back home, in spite of the summer’s heat.

“Patricia most feels the loss,” he said. “Adelaide, although she was with her mother when she . . . Well, she seldom mentions her. I suppose she is older and more capable of understanding the realities of life.”