Chapter 6

It was about a week later when Moses, staid and slow as ever, answered a knock at the front door and reluctantly showed in the large visitor and asked him to wait in the hall. Moses silently categorized him as a mechanic and wondered why he had not used the back door. Mrs. Conroy came from the parlor, recalled the young man from a previous visit and welcomed Matthew with a harried look and invited him into the sitting room where her husband read by a front window. She knew his appearance at her home meant trouble of some kind. Matthew saw the straight-backed chair he had used before and noticed that some of the portraits and a large mirror seemed to have vanished from the walls of the high-ceilinged room. He resisted the urge to scratch his scabby nose.

Mr. Conroy put down his book, shook the young man's huge hand, poured him a glass of port, waved him to the spindly chair and refilled his own glass. "You are lucky to catch us, m'boy," he said, his face cloudy with worry, a swollen vein throbbing in his forehead. "We're back to the Shore tomorrow if the weather holds."

"Mighty bitter out there." Matt sipped his unfamiliar wine. Beer, ale, grog and plonk were his drinks.

"Did you know that Priscilla married?" Mrs. Conroy asked. "Just a fortnight past. Old Charles Carroll of Annapolis sat right where you are, the dear man."

Matthew shook his head. "Hope she'll be happy," he said, smiling and raising his glass in a semi-toast, eager to ask his questions.

"Town's not very friendly to us, I fear," Mr. Conroy said. "Not that the Shore's much better. But t'was a happy wedding and a fine feast, under the circumstances."

"Sorry to hear that, sir. These are very hard times, for everyone. Reason I've come, it's about Elizabeth, sir, madam." Matthew carefully put down the thin-stemmed wine glass on a small round table and clasped his big hands between his upright knees.

"What about Elizabeth?" Anne said, bouncing into the room, her petticoats rustling, auburn curls tumbling. "Hello, Matthew. Are you still in the army? What'd I miss?" she asked her father, raking back her unruly hair. He gestured for her to sit. She did, fidgeting beside her distracted stepmother.

"Miss Anne," said Matthew, half standing and then sitting very carefully again, aware of his chair's fragile feel. "How are you?"

"Fine, just fine," said Anne, her brow furrowed, lower lip thrust forward. "Have you heard 'bout poor Elizabeth? They sold her!"

"That's not true, Anne," her stepmother said sternly. "You know it's not true. Mr. Nevers just hired her out. Perfectly legal," she said to Matthew.

"You're in the army, aren't you? General Washington's army I mean?" Anne was determined to find out all she could and force the issue, to right her family's grievous wrong, all as quickly as possible. "I have a friend, a neighbor who joined. He's up there someplace." She waved northward.

"I weren't in the real army, just the Frederick militia." Matt tried to ignore the chill he felt at the news about Elizabeth. "I'm out now. Lost some toes and can't march no more." He lifted his damaged foot and looked down at it, feeling the tingle of the missing toes.

"How'd that happen, m'boy?" Millard Conroy put down his empty glass with a shaking hand and cleared his throat.

"Trenton, sir. Christmas it was, hm, three or four weeks ago now. Seems longer. They sent me and 'nother feller 'ome, well, to Baltimore Town really. Came on a schooner from t'other end a'the Bay, a fast, chilly trip; wind was almost ripping the sails away, ice in the water too. Company I worked for, iron works, like they promised; give me my paper, some money an' some clothes, new boots too. I took the brass rather than the corn." He touched his pocket and tried a small smile.

"Trenton," Mr. Conroy said. "What a miracle that was after all those defeats." He looked absently at his empty glass and scratched his ear with a palsied hand.

"We sure enough surprised them 'Essians, sir. 'S God's truth," Matt said with a grin that hurt his frostbit nose. "But 'bout Elizabeth. Last letter I got, by way of Anne here an' her sister, she said 'er baby had died a'smallpox, but she tole me, when I was down there, that you talked 'bout lettin' her go, 'stead a'addin' to 'er time, on account a' the baby. It got kind'a raucous, confused."