Chapter 68: Gentlewoman

The woman looked at the note I gave her, then looked at me, twitched her nose and looked at the note again. Her home was a large, wooden farmhouse with several ells and many outbuildings near the river that I had been taught was called something like Skoolkull.

"You are," she said at last, folding my note into her pocket of her apron, "the largest, smelliest, dirtiest man I have seen in a long time. If you will go wash yourself, and your clothes as well, and your hair, lord help us, how long has it been, and your boots, and come back here in an hour or so, reasonably clean, smelling less like a dung heap, I will give you something to shave with and talk to you."

She turned on her heel and closed the door. I stood, surprised and frozen in place, not knowing whether to cuss or laugh. She was a handsome woman, I had registered that, and the house was certainly stately if plain, properous, I knew that too. While I was contemplating, she opened the door again and threw me a piece of hard soap. She smiled and disappeared.

I went to her well pump, untied my hair, skinned off my long-tailed shirt, set aside my heavy belt, got out of my boots, examined my rags of stockings, peeled off my britches, which I had to admit were rather stained and may have housed a louse or two, and then pumped up a bucket of water and dumped it over my head. My ballocks and cock almost disappeared in the cold water, both heavy with need. I stood with my back to the house, turning blue I suspected, assuming that natural curiosity might bring someone to the windows to watch this process. I was surprised by my own modesty, a virtue that seldom appeared. I dumped another bucket of frigid water over myself and rubbed the soap between my hands.

I washed my hair twice, rubbed soap over my body and scrubbed myself with my shirt, getting it clean at the same time. A crude, wooden washboard stood nearby, and I used that to wash my breeches, inside and out and pounded on the seams. Then I sat on the edge of the well and worked on my feet and legs and rinsed a couple of times. I hung my clothes on a bush, picked up my boots and belt and went to the back door, naked as a jay bird.

A hand appeared with a tan blanket which I accepted and wrapped myself in, Indian-style. I sat on the back steps and enjoyed the feel of clean skin. I wiped my boots with a corner of the blanket. I shook my head and sprayed droplets far and wide. I wished I had some tobacco.

I think I was about to fall asleep there in the sunlight when the door opened and the woman came and sat beside me.

"Have any tobacco?" I asked since it was atop my mind.

She stood, pried open the door slightly, cried, "Mindy, bring a pipe and a taper," and sat down again. She took a deep breath, almost like she was smelling me.

"How is John by-damn Foster?" she asked.

"He's well," I said, smiling. "Busy."

A young, black girl silently appeared with a clay pipe stuffed full of rough-cut and a skinny candle. I pushed the tobacco down and lit up. It was nice stuff, Virginia I guessed, very sweet. The girl disappeared after blowing out the thin candle. She might have been fourteen or so, creamy brown skin, bare feet.

We talked about what I was sent for and she said she guessed she could help since she had friends in trade. "My late husband," she told me, "was a factor. His partner still has the business, but he's loyal, I fear." She produced a straight razor from her pocket. "This was his, my husband's," she said handing it to me.

'Very fine," I said, opening it, "English-made, good steel."

"Yes, I enjoyed watching him shave. I'll get you a glass." She called Mindy again and a small, round mirror soon arrived.

I knotted the blanket at my waist, went back to the well, produced a bit of lather with the soap and shaved with the small mirror propped in an crabapple tree. Sometimes I could see the woman still sitting on the steps, watching me. I scraped my face and throat reasonably bare, rinsed it some, wiped it with my hands, cleaned the blade on the blanket and returned to my perch.

"We've heard, I don't know where," I told her, "that a whole ship load of weapons is due soon. We need some badly, gunpowder and lead as well."

"I'll look into it," she said. "Ask around."

"Can you give me the names of some shopkeepers I can trust?"

She nodded. "If you are very careful. The city is alive with Tories, and the British are not tolerating any interference."

She went back into her house, had Mindy bring me a cold meat pie, and I smoked and waited for my clothes to dry. As the sun began to settle behind the distant hills, the woman trotted down the steps and felt my shirt and breeches. She brought me the shirt, which was chilly but almost dry, and held my pants out at arm's length like a viper. "You can't go into town in these," she said. "My husband was a big man, bigger around than you. I'll see what I can find." She tossed my ragged breeches on the steps while I pulled on my shirt as the evening cooled. The britches she produced were very well-made but too big around the middle and much too short.

"Well, put those awful things on," she said, "and come inside. We're about to sup." She closed the door and I squirmed into my damp beeches, buttoned up and clamped on my belt, feeling whole again with the heavy blade hanging at my side. I sat across from her at a cherry wood table lit by four candles, and Mindy served us cold chicken, fresh-made bread and jam and what she called "chat," which was surely tea.

"Haven't had any of this for some time," I said, accepting another refill.

She smiled. "One of the prerogatives of being in trade."

"Was your husband loyal?"

She nodded. "We argued regularly but never in public so I am accepted in society still." She pushed a stiff piece of paper across the table to me. "Here's a short list of men I trust. The note at the side of each is their location, business and address. You can read?"

I nodded. "How about the farmers around here?"

"About fifty-fifty," she said. "What's Washington going to do?"

"Lick his wounds," I said. "Rebuild."

"They think it's over, you know."

"Good," I said. "They'll be surprised in the spring."

"The first name on the list is a tailor," she said with a smile. "Get some new breeches, please. He can put them on my account, and some stockings"

I shook my head. "I've money," I said.

"I thought the Continental army was not getting paid."

"Dead men's money, Redcoat's shillings," I said quietly.

"You strip the dead?"

"Always."

She shook her head, and I studied her a bit. Perhaps thirty, maybe thirty-five, very good carriage, very calm, very well-dressed, a plain, handsome lady. The house was quiet.

"No children?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Sadly," she said.

"Do you want me to sleep here or out in the barn?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I was thinking of your reputation." I smiled at her, and she returned my grin. I entertained carnal thoughts, as usual, despite the clammy cloth on my shrunken privates.

"Um," she said, "thank you. I usually read or do needlework. You may have the first room on the right upstairs. It's small but has a long enough bed I believe. My reputation, I fear, has long been in tatters."

Now it was my turn to raise an quizzical eyebrow.

She took a deep breath which with her good posture brought her firm breasts almost free of her gown, well up into her loosely tied kerchief.

"I caught my late husband betraying me with a friend of mine. She probably was not his only conquest as I found out later. So I decided to pay him back in kind. But I was not as good at deception as he had been. I made several mistakes, we had a terrible row, he hit me, cursed me and left me."

"You need not," I began.

"Haven't talked to anyone about it, never. He rode away, angry, waving his arms, fell from his horse when it stumbled, tore its leg apart in fact. He broke his neck, right out there in the lane, died instantly I suppose. We had to shoot the horse, a good animal."

I sat back and listened, politely. She looked away from me.

"So there I was, a rich widow and with, well, with a number of married men clamoring to jump in my bed and then a passel of young neer-do-wells who wanted to bed me and wed me. Reputation! I should say."

"What did you do?" I asked quietly.

"Banished them all, the short and the tall, the fat and the lean, the husbands and the suitors, all of them."

"How?"

"Refused them my favors." She laughed. "And my table. Threw 'em out of my bed. I also learnt to shoot." She stood, went to a sideboard, opened a drawer and produced a heavy pistol with a bore as big as my thumb. "I got pretty good. Could stand on that back porch and hit the crabapple tree where you shaved."

"Impressive."

"They thought so. So they decided I was mad, and they've left me alone."

"How long?"

"Nearly a year. Let's see, he died in, yes, just about a year."

My root tingled and I tried to ignore it. I changed the subject as she put the weapon away.

"How much land do you have?" I had no interest but asked.

"Several hundred acres. both sides of the river. We have three tenant farmers and a miller on the land. Would you like some port? Might help you sleep."

I declined, we left the table, and I found my bedroom, got out of my boots and disgraceful breeches and rolled into bed, wondering at the nerve and strength of some women, of most women.

I ignored my morning erection, breakfasted alone and quickly and went into the city, stopping first, as directed, at the tailor's. He smiled when I told him who had sent me, discussed a number of topics as he took my measure and suggested britches in the British-foot-soldier mode that buttoned about mid-calf instead of at the knee. I left that decision as well as the choice of cloth, as long as it was not white, up to him, bought some knit stockings and went about my business. The city was very crowded, but I saw my usual contacts, had a couple of beers, visited another of the new names given me, and was back at the farm by sunset.

We dined again and I regaled her with stories of the tailor's chatter and the city's bustle. She told me that she had a gig and would go to town with me the next day, if I was willing. I said I would enjoy getting off a horse for a day and would welcome her company.

I awoke hard as usual, dressed and had coffee and corn mush with the lady of the house, who was bright and, I decided, lovely. She seemed excited. I harnessed her chestnut to the gig, and off we went with the woman doing the driving, her reins held high. She liked to go fast and had very good hands. The horse obviously knew her whims and sometimes reacted before she even clucked at him. She never touched the whip. It was a fine, quick ride with the young matron outfitted in a tight jacket and wide skirt rather than a dress. She looked very attractive, very desirable. She put her boots on the dash and displayed a good bit of leg in the breeze.

She introduced me to two more businessmen, one of whom was shocked and frightened when I broached my suggestion that he provide information and help to Washington's army. She almost spat at him and dragged me from the shop, apologizing. We ate at a good restaurant, sitting toward the back where my clothes would not matter, and then visited the warehouse region. She pointed out her late husband's place of business, and I showed her some of the taverns where I had useful contacts. I did not mention Amanda and hoped we would not cross paths.

Back home, she pronounced it a pleasant day, a change from the routine, and we supped as usual.

"You married?" she asked as she poured me more chat.

With my mouth full of bread and jam, I shook my head.

"And why not. Surely you're of age."

"War," I said. "Tain't right."

"Hm," she said, "lady friends?"

"A few. We've been moving about you know. Have a good friend up in Trenton, two in fact." Maybe three, I thought.

"Some women travel with the army don't they, both armies in fact."

I nodded.

"So?" she said.

"Mostly sergeants' and officers' ladies, some of them's wives, washerwomen, a few trollops. I know a couple." I smiled and ducked my head.

"Oh," she said. She took a deep breath, stretching the lacy material of her shirt. She had removed her short jacket when she came in the house. I could not tell if she wore stays.

"No men for a year in your bed?" I asked, since she had introduced the subject.

She smiled and shook her head. "I suspect we've been thinking about the same thing," she said.

"Wouldn't be surprised. Up to you."

"Well, not entirely."

"You rather swive than read or sew?"

She put down her cup, stood and I followed her up the stairs. "No sense wasting that bath you took," she said as she opened the door to my bedroom.

"Why not your room?" I asked as I turned her around and held her close to me, my big paw on her firm butt.

She kissed me gently. "Too many memories. Ghosts."

"Pretty narrow bed," I said. Her body was firm and warm, in constant movement under my hands.

She kissed me again and started working on my shirt buttons.

After the first time, we lay in each other's arms, breathing hard and well satisfied. We had fit together easily and been almost equally demanding.

"That was grand," she said, "Just grand, wonderful. Some men are in such a hurry."

"Can't imagine," I said, petting her soft skin and blowing her hair from my mouth.

"First man I copulated with, whatever you want to call it, other than my husband, and I came to him a virgin, first man was finished in a minute I'm sure. Hopped off like I was on fire, dressed and ran. One of them came before he got into me, actually did it on the bedclothes." She giggled. "He was embarrassed, I think; no, I'm sure."

After the second time, she lay mostly atop me, spent and moaning, her knees near my thighs, head on my shoulder. "We wasted two days," she said. "Wasted. Good night." She crawled out, picked up her clothes and vanished, leaving me wanting more.

I awoke to the clatter of horses and the jangle of harness chains. Four dragoons in fancy jackets sat in the back yard near the pump, and their officer had dismounted and was approaching the door. I assumed Mindy was up since she had been on the previous days. I hurried down the hall, and the woman met me in her doorway.