“I need a wardrobe, ready-made, for a woman, tall and slim,” the general said.
“How tall and how slim? We would need to do a fitting, sir.”
The general frowned at me, and I frowned back. “That is not possible. We are in town only briefly. Her maid can make minor alterations, but she is in need of a formal gown as soon as possible. And perhaps two more dresses that can be worn about the house.”
The shopkeeper stroked his chin, as if in deep deliberation, but his eyes gleamed.
“A sea captain ordered a wardrobe for his new bride. Gave me a deposit. Brought the woman in for a fitting. She was tall. And slim. But with a bit of a bosom.” He cupped his hands beneath his chest and bounced them, as if gauging weight. It amazed me how differently men talked to one another when they believed no women were present. The general flushed, and the man dropped his hands.
“But the captain and his bride died from yellow fever. His ship is still docked in the harbor.” He shook his head sadly, but the gleam was still present. “I will sell it all to you, sir. For your missus. And I will do all the alterations for free.”
“There is no time for your alterations. I will need to pay someone else to do them,” the general countered. “And my wife is a lady with discriminating tastes.”
I almost snorted but managed to control myself.
“We will have to see the gowns,” the general finished.
The shop owner shrugged, and the haggling began. The chest was opened, the contents revealed—velvet and lace and stripes and bows—and a price settled upon. I followed General Paterson from the shop a short time later, the new owner of a wardrobe fit for a sea captain’s wife. It would be delivered to the address on Society Hill within the hour.
John had sent a message to his sister the moment we arrived in Philadelphia, with the instructions for the courier to await her response. Anne Holmes had replied with effusive warmth and welcome, according to the general.
“What did you tell her?” I asked as we climbed the hill lined with stately homes and pretty carriages that was only minutes, and a great deal of money, from the shops near the wharf.
“I told her I was in Philadelphia and that I was getting married to a young woman I have known for many years. A friend of the family. I asked her if Stephen would perform the marriage. He is accustomed to such things. He was an army chaplain in the early days of the war.”
“And you asked her if we could stay?”
“I didn’t have to ask. She insisted.”
“Oh, John,” I breathed. “I do not feel very good.”
“Courage, Samson,” he said softly. “And I like very much when you call me John.”
Anne Holmes did not wait for us to knock on her big black door, but flew down the drive and threw herself into her brother’s arms before I’d even slid to the ground. I gathered the reins of both horses, standing quietly by until a servant strode from the house, clucking at Mrs. Holmes, and took the horses around the house to the stables, promising to remove our packs from the saddles and have them delivered to the general’s quarters. He did not ask my name or question my status, and I turned back to the general and his sister, who was ushering him toward the house, chattering all the way.
“I have been beside myself with excitement since I received your post, brother. All is in order. Stephen has use of the church, as you know. You will stay here tonight, of course. And for as long as you need. The servants have been advised, though I see you have your aide. The reverend and I leave first thing in the morning for Trenton. I’m so glad you came today! I would have missed you. The house will be yours . . . but when will we meet Miss Samson? How lovely that she knew Elizabeth. That will make it better for the girls. Do they know?”
“No. No one knows, Anne. Just you. I will tell you everything. But let’s go inside.”
He waited until we were settled in the sitting room where tea had just been laid out. I was hungry and terrified, and I sat perched on the end of the settee. The cup Mrs. Holmes gave me rattled in my hands, and I set it down immediately. She didn’t seem to notice. I took a bite of a biscuit and it was powder in my mouth. I made another attempt at the tea and managed to splash my coat and miss my lips.
“Deborah?” John said quietly.
I raised my eyes to his and realized he’d said my name more than once.
“Yes, sir?”
“Deborah Samson, this is my sister Anne Holmes. Anne, this is Deborah.”
His sister looked at me, baffled, and her cup began rattling on its saucer as well.