Firmly taking Maggie’s hand, she left the men to settle their affairs.
Later, when Gordon was gone, she went down to the front room to study the papers that Walter had set on the work table. “This is for him?” she asked.
“Aye. He needs two copies made by Wednesday.”
Plain, straightforward work. It was only a pass that was issued in France giving Gordon permission to sail to that kingdom. She’d copied passes in French before and had gained some of the sense of that language. “It says that his ship and his crew are Dutch.”
Matthew, that evening, disputed this. Working so long at the harbor, he was well acquainted with some of the skippers. He’d crossed paths with Gordon a few times. He’d heard things.
“His family, I think, comes from near Aberdeen, though he does have a kinsman in Camphere, in Holland, and he himself was made a citizen there. He’s well kent here in Leith. He just now came in with a loading of brandy and salt brought from Rotterdam, and aye, his crew was Dutch then when he came, but they’ve left him now, and he’s been taking on Scotsmen.”
It seemed strange to Lily. “He kens we’re at war with France?”
Matthew said, “I suspect that’s why he asked for the pass.”
“He’s still risking much.”
“More risk, more profit, as Archie would say.” Matthew turned thoughtful. “When did he say he was coming again to collect these?”
“You’d have to ask Walter. Why?”
He gave her no reason then, but the following Wednesday when Gordon came by, Matthew was at the house, too, and naturally where Matthew was, there Maggie was as well.
“Good morrow, Margaret,” Gordon greeted her. He’d brought a parcel with him that was roughly the same length as Maggie’s arm and twice as broad, wrapped in bright paper. “I have a great favor to ask you. My ship is too weighted with cargo, and we must find some way to lighten her, so I am hoping that you will take this off my hands. It would be a great kindness.”
Maggie took the parcel from him, and would have done only that, but Matthew said, “I think you’re meant to open it.”
She did. Inside, there was a wooden doll, whose jointed legs were hidden underneath a yellow linen gown topped with an apron edged in red. She had a matching cap that framed her pretty, smiling face with rosy cheeks. Her hands were carved so finely she had fingers. Maggie stared, and could not speak for a long moment, then she hugged the doll and looked at Gordon. “Thank ye.”
Lily looked at Gordon also, fighting down the stirring of her deep suspicion. “’Tis a generous gift.”
He shrugged. “I met her in the window of a shop last month in Rotterdam, and thought she looked fair lonely. My own daughter is but newly born and far too young to keep her proper company, but I believe that Margaret might be able to.” He smiled at Maggie. “And have you a name for her?”
“Dolly.”
“A perfect name.” Turning to Matthew, he said, “And I’ve met you before, surely?”
“Aye, you have.” Matthew reminded him of their encounters before at the harbor. “I’m wondering if you’re still taking on crew for your voyage?”
It would have been difficult to tell who was the more surprised—Lily, or Gordon.
As Lily’s heart fell, Gordon said, “I am. Have you experience?”
“None as a mariner. But where you’re going, you’ll need someone who can guard your back. And that,” said Matthew, “I can do.”
Chapter 23
Wednesday, 28 February, 1695
“I’ll not be away long,” he promised. “I’d not leave at all if I didn’t ken Simon would keep you safe. It’s only—” Matthew looked away from her, as though in search of words he could not find.
“Ye might have warned me,” Lily said.
“It’s been coming on awhile, this feeling. Like it’s me that’s fastened in the traces of that cart and not the horse, and pulling every day that weight around behind me for no purpose.”
Lily took those words as though they were a slap, and looked away herself, and Matthew cursed himself and said, “You’re not a part of that. You’re not. You give me purpose. But the rest of it…” He still could not explain it.
Barbara did a better job that evening, while she worked alone with Lily in the kitchen. “Since he was a bairn,” she said, “he’s aye been on the move. Our Walter, if he had a book, he’d stay in one chair all the day if ye would let him, happy as ye please, but never Matthew. Some days I’d put Matthew down and turn my back and he’d be off so fast…” She smiled, remembering. “These past years he’s been working at a job that holds him tightly to one place. He needs the space to run.”