River

Pittsburgh

Nicholas

We’re so close. I’ve decided to take the steamboat first on a voyage up and down the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers, just cruise all around Pittsburgh, so that all of its citizens can watch the New Orleans as it goes past. And of course, this will be the first true test of its capacity. We’ve only run the engines, holding the ship in place at the dock, and done a few very brief trips, getting no more than a few hundred yards away from the shipyard. I want to have a more substantial test before the actual launch date.

My tentative plan is to have the Pittsburgh rivers test on October 15, then assuming all goes well, embark for New Orleans on October 20.

We have the crew assembled. I will act as the Captain. I have hired Nicholas Baker as the engineer, to oversee the functioning of the engine itself. The pilot will be Andrew Jack, who will be responsible for steering and navigating the difficult route, full of shifting sandbars and small islands, not to mention the treacherous Falls waiting for us toward the end of the Ohio river. We have selected six of our best workers from the shipyard to act as our crew. We have hired a chef and a waiter to handle the meal preparation and service. And Lydia is bringing our housekeeper, Abigail, and a nursemaid for our daughter. And for our other child, expected to arrive very soon. And of course, we cannot leave our dog, Tiger, behind. So the full complement of persons onboard will be fourteen, plus one lively toddler, one enormous hound, and very soon one newborn.

An odd crew, granted. But perfectly appropriate for us, the oddest married couple I know.

Gregor

“Good morning, darling,” I tell her as soon as she opens her eyes. Wolk is amused, because this is usually what he says to me when I wake up.

I wasn’t asleep, though. I think I’ve had enough sleep for a while, I probably won’t do it again for a few more days. But rather than slip out of bed in the middle of the night like usual, I was content to just lie here by her side, waiting while she slept.

Since the incident with Mason, I find myself savoring every moment I get to spend with her. Even if she’s not awake.

She’s starting to have trouble sleeping herself. The baby is active and strong. Its movements disrupt her nights sometimes. Wolk monitors Rosalind and the fetus, so that I will know if there is any problem, but so far they are both extremely healthy. Wolk knows the gender, of course, but I have told him not to tell me. It wouldn’t be fair for me to know before Rosalind. It appears that the baby will come in about three months, possibly in the early part of January.

We’ve had to modify our sexual activities somewhat, ruling out certain positions to accommodate her growing abdomen. I would certainly acquiesce if Rosalind wished to abstain due to the pregnancy, but she has made it quite clear that she wishes nothing of the sort. Indeed, she seems even more interested in relations than she used to be. I don’t know if it is her body reacting to the pregnancy, or if it is her newfound method of teasing me that makes her so enthusiastic, but we have engaged in such activities nearly every night. She has always been willing, but now she has become extremely eager.

Ever since the day of Mason’s attack, or the day I should more rightly refer to as Rosalind’s victory, when after it was all over she commanded me so forcefully in bed, she has added this to our repertoire. I must stay still and quiet, holding the headboard, while she has her way with me. It thrills me and maddens me. I used to think that she could drive me into a frenzy, but that was nothing compared to this. Sometimes it seems like I have finally found something that might actually kill me, since it feels like I could die from the ecstasy as she torments me with pleasure until finally relenting and allowing me to hold her again. I know what she is doing, demonstrating that I must not treat her as simply a frail little creature. And oh, have I learned my lesson. I will never condescend to her again. It is more like I wish to worship her.

The wolf grins at me, a glint of humor in his eyes. He understands, and he is delighted for me.

“Mmmm,” she replies, moving over to cuddle up to me for a moment, before sitting up.

I leave the bed, pulling on some clothing. I want to give her some privacy to attend to her needs. “I’ll be downstairs, my dear,” I tell her, leaning down to give her a little kiss before going.

I glance down the hall at the guest room door out of habit, but it is standing open and the bed within is empty. Jake returned yesterday to Madam Beverly, fully recovered from his injury. I considered asking him to stay, to work for me here, but I cannot think what position he might fill. Rosalind was a little sad to see him go, but he seemed perfectly content. I will watch over him, make sure he is doing well, and possibly in the near future will think of a position to offer him. Beverly won’t want him staying at the brothel much longer anyway, as the presence of a male entering adolescence could prove disruptive. Young men experiencing puberty are notoriously incapable of self-control.

I snort with laughter at myself, remembering how frantically I begged Rosalind for mercy last night, rearing so high off the bed that I was practically levitating, utterly failing to keep myself still as she had ordered. I suppose it isn’t only young men who have problems with self-control. The wolf laughs as well.

Well, I have a couple of years to think of something for Jake. I’m sure something will occur to me.

Moses and Nadine are arriving for the morning when Rosalind comes down the stairs. While we are sitting down to breakfast in the dining room, I have something I want to ask her.

“Rosalind, how would you feel about my asking Samuel Duncan here for dinner tonight?”

“Of course, that would be fine, Gregor. May I ask why?”

“I just feel sorry for him,” I shrug. For many reasons, but I can’t tell them all. I internally shake my head at myself, still keeping secrets despite my attempt at reform. Well, at least this is a secret that is really not mine to tell. “He must be lonely. His brother Stephen is still at Ellis Cliffs with Thomas. And of course, neither one of them will be living in Natchez any longer. I feel like Samuel might enjoy dining with us rather than with his uncles at the club yet again.”

“Certainly,” she smiles. “It will be nice to see him.”

While I am leaving for work, she is talking to Nadine, planning a dinner menu for our guest. My heart is full.

“Samuel is already in his office,” Wolk helpfully informs me, “filling in charts before patients begin arriving.”

He comes out of his office when he hears me enter the front door.

“Hello, Gregor,” he says, “what can I do for you?”

“Agree to join Rosalind and I for supper tonight at our home? I thought perhaps a break from the Postlethwaite Uncles’ company might be welcome.”

He chuckles. “So it will be. I love them dearly, but my goodness they both have a great deal of advice to offer me. I would love to come.”

I nod. I don’t leave yet, because he seems to wish to say something else. He leans against the wall. “How is David doing?” he asks.

I know what he really wants to know, but won’t mention.

“David appears to be fully recovered from the blood poisoning. Your treatment was remarkably effective,” I tell him. Then I add, “He is not feeling as well as I would like, though.”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

I shrug. “I think he’s just lonely for his best friend. Ben decided to leave town, head back up the Trace.”

He seems to go pale. His eyes widen. “What?”

“He is shocked,” Wolk tells me. “He had no intention of approaching Ben, but took comfort in knowing that he was at least nearby. The knowledge that Ben has departed seems to strike him as a sudden blow, a confirmation of Samuel’s fear that their love was not real.”

“Yes,” I say. “He didn’t want to stay in Natchez any more. He said he wasn’t happy here, he had to go. So he decided to head north on the Trace, to start working with flatboats again.”

He sinks down into one of the waiting room chairs, heedless of the picture this will paint for me. He has no idea that I am fully aware of his relationship with Ben, and would normally take pains to continue hiding it, but he is too distressed to consider that at the moment.

“He left?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say, sitting in the chair next to him.

His distress is evident. He has nobody to confide in, nobody to comfort him. It is tragic. I can’t just leave him like this.

“Samuel,” I say, “I believe I know what has happened.”

He looks sideways at me, trying to hide the fact that he is very nearly crying.

“Ben never said a thing, of course, he would never betray your trust in that way. But from my own observations, I believe that I understand what you and he meant to each other.”

He gasps and covers his mouth with his hand.

I have a confession to make to him, which I do while looking straight ahead at the wall across the room so that he does not have to bear me witnessing his anguish. “I know it is too late to change anything now, but you should probably know that I am partly to blame for Ben concealing from you the truth of how you first met. I knew it, and I didn’t want it to cause problems for him, so I suggested that he remain silent. I suspect that otherwise he would have told you himself, long before you found out.” I pause and look at him, finally meeting his eyes. “I am sorry.”

I see first shock in his eyes as he processes this information, then hope, then finally grief as he realizes it is too late. Ben has already gone.

I am not sure if I should encourage this, but I can’t stop myself. So much for trying not to interfere in other people’s lives.

“He just left yesterday morning,” I point out. “It’s only been a day, and he’s walking. He can’t have gotten very far.”

He leaps to his feet, wiping his eyes, and begins to pace back and forth restlessly in the lobby of his office, suddenly brimming with energy for which he can find no outlet. He looks out the window, then back down at me.

“I…” he says, the plan forming in his mind almost visibly, “I’ll need a horse.”

“Take mine,” I immediately say. “Issoba is the fastest horse in Natchez.”

Samuel Duncan

He would have told me. This knowledge is consuming me, the only thing I can think about, the only thing that matters. Even the shocking realization that Gregor not only knows of our relationship, but that he clearly accepts it quite readily, is nothing compared to what I have learned.

He would have told me.

He was only concealing the truth based on Gregor’s advice.

We all know how persuasive Gregor can be.

Ben would have told me, he wouldn’t have concealed his knowledge, he wasn’t really trying to trick me.

It is possible that our love was real after all.

Just as my memories of our initial meeting on the Trace flooded over me when I first learned of it, now different memories flood over me when I learn that he would have told me. I remember the pleading look on his face as Thomas led him away. I remember knowing how desperately he was trying to meet my eyes in the jail, and then at the boarding house. He wanted me to forgive him. And I remember the many times we shared, in his grove, the way that every time we arrived I would find some new little item he had brought to increase our comfort, a new pillow or blanket or dish. It became a part of our relationship, for me to discover what new treat he had provided for us to enjoy. Most of all I remember how it feels to be with him, how it feels to be in his arms, for him to be in mine.

It was all real.

I have to find him.

Gregor quickly leads me up the street to the stables. He orders that Issoba be saddled, and provisions for the road be placed into the saddle bags. He turns to me. “I am sorry for what has happened, but I think you can salvage this if you can talk to him.” He looks over at the huge horse. “He is a very sensitive beast, very responsive. He will carry you to where you need to go.”

When the groom leads the horse, saddled and ready, over to us, Gregor walks to the front of Issoba’s face. He pulls his head down and presses their foreheads together, murmuring, “Issoba, this is my friend Samuel. Please take care of him.” The horse nickers in response. Being introduced to a horse is peculiar, just like practically everything about Gregor is peculiar, but it is very touching.

He gives me a hand up, and steps back. I can feel his eyes watching my back as the horse canters towards the Trace.