Love's Pursuit by Siri Mitchell

Author:Siri Mitchell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2010-07-27T22:00:00+00:00

23

“SUSANNAH, YOU ARE TO go with your father to Newham. To fulfill my list of things we lack and to buy the items necessary to complete your dowry.”

Mary looked up at Mother’s words, envy evident in her eyes.

“What sort of items?”

“You’ll need some fine lawn for a new collar and lace to trim it. A length of black stuff to be made into a gown.”

“Black?” I’d never worn a black gown. Never thought I would be grand enough to own one.

“Aye. What’s good for Mistress Wright is sure to be good for her daughter-to-be. You must ask for the best to be certain the dye is fast.”

I nodded.

“And you’ll need some silk for stitching and sewing. And another board cloth.”

“But they must have them in abundance already.”

“If you are to marry a fine man, you must take to his household items of value.”

“But—”

“ ’Tis decided, Susannah. We must not be shamed.”

And so, several days later, I walked beside the oxcart with Father to Newham’s fair, the cart packed carefully with the fine work Father was known for. Walking with us were others intent upon attending that same fair. Thomas Smyth led an oxcart heavily laden with his wares. Goodman Ellys led a cart bearing the surplus from his harvests, and Goodman Hillbrook had loaded his with dairy goods.

Newham was a bit over four miles to the east along the road to Boston, and a good two hours walk. I would have given anything to ride, but the oxcart was filled with wares too valuable to be displaced for reason of my comfort. Having risen in darkness, none of us were up for talking much. And due to the threat of savages, attention was devoted to the wood that brushed up into the path.I must say I breathed a sigh of relief as the shadowy darkness gave way to dawn’s pale light. And another sigh as the thick stands of trees surrendered to meadows and the meadows to cultivated fields.There was no cover here for Indians. ’Twas then that the men traded their muskets for portions of bread and cheese. And then that easy conversation passed between the merchants.

My father turned to look over his shoulder and slowed the walk of his oxen so that Thomas Smyth’s slower pair, last on the road, could catch up. They labored with their heavy load, tongues lolling in fatigue. “And what are you selling today, Thomas Smyth?”

I turned to hear Thomas’s response and saw his teeth flash. “Oh, I’ve a chain for every goodwife who hopes to slaughter and drain a fatted calf or stout pig this month coming. And a hook for every need. And you, Goodman Phillips?”

“A thing or two. This and that. An ordinary bench and a stool.Some small tables and a cupboard.” He put a hand to the oxen’s yoke and clucked to set it straighter on the path. He had more than those few things of course, and his benches were only ordinary in the practical sense of the term.

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