Chapter 6: We Have Guests

As the month of August approached, Uncle James informed both Siobhan and me that the start of the Saratoga social season was nearing and suggested that we both make sure that any dresses and such that we would need had been procured by then. It seemed as if the local merchants all had two sets of prices and menus. The normal one was used but for eleven months of the year, the other showed double prices and was used in August, a fine example of Yankee ingenuity!

By then, I had written Mrs. Pembleton to send any remaining possessions which might be in storage, along with a lengthy letter of thanks to her and an appraisal of my new circumstances. I lied only by omission, leaving out the facts of my uncle’s permissive and libertine household, and simply told her the truth; that I was enjoying myself immensely. Within a few weeks’ time, several large trunks showed up, much more than I had realized, much of it my parent’s clothing, but also a few keepsakes, and my mother’s meager jewelry.

Mind you, I am not complaining. When I showed my father’s uniform, sword, and pistol to Uncle James, he very tenderly took them and said they would be treated well. I cried at his kindness, and in remembrance of my family, and he took me in his arms to embrace me until I felt well enough to continue. The uniform he had cleaned and stored away properly, then he personally took the sword and revolver. Taking me downstairs, he had Ahkbar take the blade to the wheel and put a good edge on it, then led me to his gun room, where he maintained a small arsenal of lovingly kept pieces and cleaned and oiled the weapon. Afterwards, when he asked if I knew how to shoot and I replied in the negative, he took me to his shooting range beyond a hillside out back and taught me to fire the weapon. It made the most frightful noise and kicked like a mule and was really far too heavy for me to use, but he was most insistent that I should learn to protect myself if necessary.

Mama’s jewels were few but of good quality, he announced upon seeing them. They consisted of a strand of pearls, a pair of small diamond earrings, and her engagement and wedding bands. He allowed me to store them in his office safe and offered to loan me a few trinkets if I ever felt like wearing anything else. He said that he had picked up a few items in the Orient, but they were such that he would look awfully silly wearing them.

Mama’s clothing proved surprising for several reasons. First of all, she had an inordinate number of fineries, fit only for viewing by Papa, I am sure. To be delicate about the matter, she had the most complete and indecent trousseau! While I knew that she and father were a most loving couple, I had no idea they were that, well, adventurous! In addition, she and my father had the same tastes for public display as Siobhan and her late husband had. While she always acted and dressed as the pretty yet demure mother when with me, she had the most extensive array of dresses which emphasized her bosom. I should mention that while Mama was not as well blessed as I in this regard, she was still above the average, and she delighted in displaying her charms to my father and others! These dresses I showed to Siobhan, and she squealed with delight. A seamstress was in residence, a charming girl named Nancy who was a full member of the household, in all its meaning, and she was summoned. She eagerly undertook the assignment of modifying the dresses to fit my frame, which was shorter but more buxom. Nancy explained that while her talents were sufficient for what we wanted; any special outfits must be done up by one of several seamstresses in town. Regardless, my supply of clothing which would highlight my finest assets and prove intoxicating to the male spirit multiplied several-fold with this acquisition!

Midway through the first week of August, Uncle James informed us over dinner that the next day we would be receiving our first guests of the season. The social season in Saratoga revolved around the races run every Summer, and our guests were all individuals associated with the thoroughbred trade. They would be staying to view the stables, attend a few races, and perhaps purchase some of the colts and fillies he bred. I asked him who was coming.

“Well, there will be about six, I should say. First off is a breeder from Kentucky and his wife, John and Hope Bainbridge. Very nice people, very much salt-of-the-earth types, quiet but solid. He’s a bit more of a professional about it than I, but I like to think we have some good bloodlines here, and he is looking for a few additions to his stables. He’ll be looking for quality, not quantity, but will pay the price if he thinks it worth it. We’ve dealt before, and I think you’ll like them,” he replied.

Continuing, he said, “Then there are the Kendricksons, Harry and Robert. I’ve never met them before, so I really don’t know much beyond what Harry wrote me. It seems that when their father died, they came into an inheritance from, of all things, the manufacture of pickles! They also received quite a bit of property, including a stable, and plan to revive it as a going concern. They are from Connecticut, and that is about all I know of them.”

“The last is an old acquaintance, Mister William Harrison Rutherspoon, the Fourth. You remember him, don’t you Ahkbar?” asked Uncle James.

Ahkbar muttered something in an Indian dialect, then said, “Verily, and if Allah has put a stupider fool on the planet, I will become a Jew!”

“And I will join you, my friend. We shall look quite ridiculous reading the Torah, eh?”

“I don’t understand, Uncle, I thought you said he was your friend?” I asked. Siobhan looked at him curiously as well.

“No, I said he was an old acquaintance. It is not at all the same thing. The man has determined, all without his knowing it, that his work on this planet is the conversion of a large fortune into a small one. The last three generations of Rutherspoons have managed to build a huge amount of wealth. The fourth is intent on spending it all! Worse, he has absolutely no sense at all. I could sell him a three-legged mule, and he would stand it to stud.”

Siobhan and I tittered at the thought, and Siobhan protested that this was simply too much.

Ahkbar laughed and interjected, “Nay, young miss, you are wrong. Once, I saw him point to a pair of matched chestnuts we were using as carriage horses and inquire as to their suitability for breeding. They were geldings, of course. I had to bite my lip and bury my face in my beard to keep from laughing on the spot. I have no idea how James kept from laughing!” A glance at my uncle’s grinning countenance proved the truth of this outrageous statement.

“Oh, yes, and the man extends his folly to every arena.” He faced me, and a more serious expression came upon him. “I must warn you now, my dear, of something which will sooner or later crop up. I am sure you are of an age where you will understand this. It is not uncommon for a gentleman of a certain age, say mine, to have accompany him a young lady, typically his niece or cousin, who, shall I say, is not a blood relation at all. A young lady who works on commission, perhaps? Do you see my meaning?”

I blushed slightly but smiled. “Perhaps the relation is more than a friend but less than a wife? Please, Uncle James, such things are not limited to the colonies.” I stressed the ‘Uncle’ heavily, with a wink at Siobhan, and was delighted at his startled look.

“Child, you shall be the death of me! Well, since you are so sophisticated, you may know that this fool will almost certainly be bringing a ‘niece’ or ‘cousin’ with him. If he actually had this many female relations, it would be a most astonishing statistical improbability, especially considering he once told me that both he and his parents were only children.” Siobhan and I both giggled at this. “Regardless, I do try to maintain a liberal attitude towards my guests, so we shall treat the young lady as a relative.”

Siobhan smiled. “Indeed, sir. Why, I am sure that they will need adjoining bedrooms, so that he can be assured of her treatment.”

Uncle James smiled and said, “Precisely so.”

So it was that the next afternoon Uncle James, Ahkbar, and several men drove the carriage and a buckboard into town to retrieve our guests from the train, while Siobhan and I made the final arrangements for their stay with us, ably assisted by the rest of the staff. This sort of thing was quite an old hat to them. It was expected that the Bainbridges would arrive either later or the next day, so it was with some surprise that we witnessed the arrival of all at once. Ahkbar was driving the carriage, while my uncle rode inside with two men and two ladies. The other two men were driving the buckboard, while the stable hands perched atop the luggage behind them! These new drivers jumped down lightly and assisted the ladies from the coach, then Uncle James led them inside while the hands tended to the luggage under Mister Singh’s watchful eye.

“Introductions are in order,” he announced as we gathered in the foyer. “This is my niece, Miss Caroline Pendrake, who is my European secretary, and this is Mrs. Siobhan Rourke, my domestic secretary. Ladies, allow me to introduce the Kendricksons. This is Harry, and this is Robert, and these are the Bainbridges, John and Hope. Last but not least, allow me to introduce you to Mister William Rutherspoon and his niece, Miss Angelique DuBois. Did I get that correct, my dear? Miss DuBois is a French relation and has accompanied William here to see the States.” He pointed to each of us in turn and for several moments there was a flurry of arms crisscrossing as we all shook hands.

I should take a few moments to describe the new, though temporary, residents of the household. Robert Kendrickson and his brother Harry were as different as possible; it was hard to imagine them being at all related. Robert was a thin stick of a man, about thirty years of age, with thinning hair and all the charm of a dead fish, with a handshake to match. He resembled nothing so much as a dyspeptic bookkeeper. Harry, on the other hand, was two years younger, and as vigorous as his brother was bookish, and could easily have charmed a Hindu into eating a beefsteak! He had been one of the two men driving the buckboard.

The other was John Bainbridge. As foretold by my uncle, the Bainbridges were pleasant though quiet, and very much salt-of-the-earth types. They were not flashy at all, but rather more conservative, though not plain. They were of forty years or so, and long married. Hope Bainbridge was a rather handsome woman and was most certainly a beauty when younger. As it was, she was a short woman and buxom, much like myself, and though childbirth had thickened her waistline, she was by no means stout, and I could easily envisage her maintaining her husband’s interests. In many ways, I hoped this would portend hope for me in the years to come!

As for William Harrison Rutherspoon the Fourth, to paraphrase one of my uncle’s sayings about politicians (“How do you know they are lying? Their lips are moving!”) you could tell the man was a fool because his lips were moving. He was stout and bombastic, with little more sense than God gives geese! I had no doubt that my uncle would be able to cull his stables nicely with the eager help of the man. His ‘niece’, Angelique, I am sure must have thought this commission was a trial.

Angelique was a young woman, midway between Siobhan’s and my years, slim and tall, with brown hair and eyes, and a most fetching countenance. Unfortunately for her employer, the fool had rented himself a doxie with only the most rudimentary of English skills, so that once they landed in New York from his recent trip abroad, where he explained that he had met the French side of the family, she was only able to converse with some difficulty. Needless to say, the idiot could barely speak French, at least beyond ‘Get undressed and lay down!’ I wondered how long it would take her to rid herself of this fool and either manage a ticket home, or more likely, meet a patron who spoke French.