Chapter 20

In mid-October Anne's stepmother returned from her farm bringing several hams and a brace of gamebirds along with a house guest, a mature gentleman named Pierce Joseph Amboy who styled himself "esquire" and was, in fact, a part-time lawyer as were many of the land-rich planters. At their first meal together, Mrs. Conroy raised the topic of marriage. "You are nineteen now, are you not, Anne?" she asked sweetly. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday this summer, but my place very much needed a firm hand."

"Yes, ma'am," Anne replied without looking at the woman. "Nineteen it is."

"Well Mr. Amboy here is a widower, unfortunately, and very much in need of a woman to care for his two motherless children." Mrs. Conroy gave the bewigged visitor a very sweet smile. "In other words, he is looking for a wife." She licked her lips and lifted at eyebrow in Anne's direction. "And you are, as you are well aware, a spinster with few if any prospects."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, sir," Anne said to him as she felt a chill run through her. The idea of 'spinster" had never occurred to her. "How old are your children?"

He stopped chewing, put down his knife and fork, wiped his lips on the tablecloth and said, "Thank you, m'dear. The boy is two and the girl almost four. They are both fair-haired like their late mother." He smiled showing very bad teeth.

"Have you slaves, sir, house servants I mean, nannies perhaps, wet-nurses?" Anne asked, glancing at her quiet father from the corner of her eye, and sitting up very straight, determined to be on her best behavior despite a feeling of what she decided to class as "revulsion." She had filed 'spinster' away for another time and another fight.

"Oh yes, of course, several, and they do a good enough job." He licked his heavy lips. "But still, a wife meets other needs you understand, in society and so forth. My house needs a woman."

Anne was tempted to say that on many farms slaves served that purpose as well, but she resumed her eating and held her tongue, proud of resisting the temptation.

"Mr. Amboy actually has two or three farms. Right? His home place is a large as mine I believe. Isn't that so?" inquired Mrs. Conroy with a small smile.

"Indeed. I've gone to several sheriffs' sales. Land is cheap just now, you know, if you have some silver." He gave Anne's father a small smile. "How are things over on the Shore?"

"Rather confused, sir. People going off in all directions. Many families sundered, absolutely torn apart, even the Tilghmans. Imagine!" Anne's father shook his head. His heavily-veined hands quivered. "There's been some barn burning, I hear. Pitiful, sir, shameful."

"Yes," Amboy agreed, pursing his lips. "It has been, what shall we say, confused at best. I have two mills, and neither is doing much business. Does the young lady have a dowry, may I ask?" His smile flicked past his lips.

"How do you see the future?" Anne quickly asked their guest, managing an inquisitive tone and aware that her stepmother was watching her closely.

"Confidently, Miss, very confidently. I'm told that our royal navy has blockaded the mouth of the Bay, trying to stop those infernal privateers. My friends say that General Clinton is planning a southern campaign. Many below the Potomac are still furiously loyal, you know."

"But," Anne swallowed rapidly, "didn't some of the Whig leaders come from Virginia, of the rebellion I mean - Jefferson, Patrick Henry? Even Washington, eh?" She gave him a brief smile and arched an eyebrow.

After the meal, Anne was asked to show their guest about the town, and they quickly set out on the brick sidewalks. Mr. Amboy made several futile efforts at conversation, but received only terse responses from the lovely girl who refused to link her elbow with his and managed to keep her bodice firmly closed by her perfect posture and tightly tied shift and corset cover.

Later that afternoon, when Anne had returned to her half-finished letter to Billy Fields, a letter she now thought needless if he were really coming home, her stepmother entered her bedroom, sighed and said, "Well?"

Anne turned and blinked at her, mentally biting her tongue, ready to parry and thrust. The word 'spinster" rose in her memory.

"Isn't he a catch, eh, rich and landed, fine manners, good family. What more could you ask?"

Anne chuckled and shook her head.

"Well, answer me, girl? What more is there? Seems to me you're never satisfied, always want something more."

Anne put down her quill and rotated to face her stepmother. She took a deep breath and marshaled her thoughts. "A great deal, madam, starting with love or at least mutual respect and compatibility." She looked away, unable to hold the woman's glassy stare. "Not to mention the matter of age. How old is he, forty or fifty? Would you marry a stranger, madam? I hope not."