Washington's Lady by Nancy Moser Page B

pointed to a section of trees. “Those are cherry and apple trees, and the tall ones are poplars.”
    “The blossoms are beyond lovely.”
    “They have bloomed just for you. They wanted to show off.”
    I laughed. “We have come at the right time of year. A happy coincidence.”
    He shook his head sternly. “There is no such thing.” I felt him take a deep breath. “I belong here, Martha. We belong here. Our marriage, our life together . . . it was God who brought us together, who brought us here.”
    I did not, could not, argue with him.

Five
    I stood outside the door of the small room George used as a study, not wishing to startle him. He was busy at work and did not look up. The light of the candle was still needed as it was not yet dawn.
    I did not mind his inattention but enjoyed watching him in this clandestine way. His red hair was pulled back, though slightly tousled from sleep. He had put on breeches and shirt, but the latter remained untucked, its sleeves rolled. His feet were bare, and I resisted the urge to admonish him about staying warm because I was chilled. I had already learned our tolerance for hot and cold were not the same. Where I took great pains to adjust to variances in temperature, George seemed immune to them. Perhaps his extensive time spent in the wild had toughened him.
    He sighed deeply and stretched his arms above his head. It was then he saw me. “Martha? What are you doing out of bed?”
    “Seeing where my warm blanket had gone to.”
    He smiled and held out his hand to me. I went to him and he pulled me close.
    “What are you working on?” I asked.
    “I am working on you, on your New Kent holdings. I wish to do right by you, and by what the Custis family amassed over so many years.”
    “Believe me, I am relieved to be free of the burden.”
    He pointed to a letter. “I have written your factor—”
    “Our factor.”
    “Our factor in England, Robert Cary and Company, and have informed them it would behoove them to treat us fairly, as the Custis and Washington fortunes are not without influence, and if they do not treat us well, we will take our business elsewhere.”
    “Bravo, husband!”
    Spurred on by my support, he read a portion aloud: “‘Regarding prices, you must take some pains to inform yourself exactly, because should the prices differ from those of the estate, I might possibly think myself deceived and be disgusted.’”
    I laughed softly. “You are most certainly direct.”
    “A necessity when there are thousands of miles between us. But in truth, beyond the sales of tobacco—of which I never know how much I am going to be paid or how much will be lost en route or stolen—I am fed up with how many of the material goods we order are inferior. Machinery comes with parts missing, certain goods are absent or used by the crew along the trip, and I have heard rumours that merchants in London add ten percent to any order they know is coming to the colonies. Goods from London are mean in quality, but not in price, for in that they excel. And to not know the price until we receive the goods . . .’tis a situation ripe for disenchantment.”
    I agreed. “I have learned one must be very specific, though even that does not fend off deviations. I have oft instructed my representatives not to shop the most expensive stores but to seek better prices. I have ordered a dress stipulating the highest cost to be paid and have been disappointed in the quality, or have been baited with a dress of higher cost. I refuse to fall victim to such nonsense.”
    “As much as we have the power.”
    I pulled his arm around me once more. “They don’t think very well of us, do they?”
    He shook his head. “We will always be a stepchild to them—an annoying, bothersome stepchild. My brother Lawrence told me that even when he went to school in England, he was looked down upon as a mere colonial. How much land or status we have here has little bearing in England.”
    “And we