McRae’s who kept a shop of instruments in Edinburgh, died, and Mr. McRae sailed
there to settle his affairs. He brought back a harp, and a dulcimer. His daughter
is adept on both.”
“His wife’s brother,” said Mrs. Stannard, “Paul Levesque, is a copy clerk employed
by Mr. William Boyce, the composer, in London. He sends his sister all sorts
of music for his niece to play.”
“And,” added her husband, “he plays the harpsichord, and often performs with
other musicians at Vauxhall Gardens. Occasionally, he tutors children of the
best families.” Mr. Stannard paused. “He and Mrs. McRae are Huguenots.”
“Or were,” corrected his wife. “Mrs. McRae frequently accompanies her husband
to the church here. Her brother himself owned a large instrument-making shop
in Paris, once. It was smashed during a Papist riot. Mrs. McRae’s fiancé was
killed by a mob that same day. She and her brother went to London, and found
a place next door to Mr. McRae’s lodgings. He, too, was new to the city. That
is how they met.”
“Mr. McRae and his family have been at Enderly most of the afternoon, sirs,”
volunteered the agent. “That is one reason why he could not accompany us to
Brougham Hall. They have brought Etáin’s harp, at Mr. Vishonn’s request, so
that she could rehearse some songs with James.”
“Who is also an admirable baritone,” remarked Mrs. Stannard. “Those two may
be a match,” she added, “though Mrs. McRae does not encourage the rumor.”
“Nor does Etáin,” said her husband. “Her heart is set on Mr. Frake.”
“Her mother encourages that match with her resounding silence on the
possibility, every time the subject is raised.”
Hugh Kenrick asked, “Do you think Mr. Frake will attend tonight?”
Stannard sighed. “Very likely, sir. And, he may bring his own fireworks.”
* * *
By London standards, it was a small assembly; by rural colonial, a large. Some
forty adults arrived at Enderly to celebrate Wolfe’s victory at Quebec, mostly
neighboring planters and their wives, together with some children and a smattering
of adolescents. All were dressed in their best finery: the men in velvet or
wool frock coats, waistcoats, and perukes, the women in hooped taffeta or silk
gowns, and coiffed hair adorned with pearls, plumes and ribbons. Reece Vishonn
had, as usual, arranged to allow his guests to leave their mounts and conveyances
beyond the courtyard, where a liveried slave watched them and tended them with
water and oats. The guests then walked through the cresset-lit courtyard to
the house, where they were greeted in the breezeway by one or another of the
Vishonn family. Reece Vishonn, a large, florid-faced man in green silks and
an immaculate pigtailed wig, welcomed Mr. Stannard’s party with an almost garrulous
flourish. He gave Arthur Stannard barely enough time to introduce his visitors.
“Mr. Talbot…Mr. Kenrick, it is such a pleasure to meet you! Mr. McRae told me
you were looking over the Swart place. Well, it is my earnest hope that there
is a change of ownership! How long will you stay in our fair town?”
Otis Talbot said, “We take the Amelia back to Philadelphia tomorrow
afternoon, sir.”
“What a pity! I should like to have had you both over for a private supper.
Has Mr. Stannard told you everything about the property?”
Hugh Kenrick smiled. “What little he may have neglected to tell us, sir, we
have deduced for ourselves. No decision has been made yet concerning a purchase.”
“Well…,” said Mr. Vishonn, wanting to frown in disappointment. “Perhaps this
evening’s jollities will help you to decide! Because so many are expected, my
lady has elected to forgo a formal table and lay out a buffet, which has already
been removed from the kitchen. We will have a bonfire down by the water, and
some fireworks about midnight. And, of course, there will be dancing aplenty,
all night, for as
there to settle his affairs. He brought back a harp, and a dulcimer. His daughter
is adept on both.”
“His wife’s brother,” said Mrs. Stannard, “Paul Levesque, is a copy clerk employed
by Mr. William Boyce, the composer, in London. He sends his sister all sorts
of music for his niece to play.”
“And,” added her husband, “he plays the harpsichord, and often performs with
other musicians at Vauxhall Gardens. Occasionally, he tutors children of the
best families.” Mr. Stannard paused. “He and Mrs. McRae are Huguenots.”
“Or were,” corrected his wife. “Mrs. McRae frequently accompanies her husband
to the church here. Her brother himself owned a large instrument-making shop
in Paris, once. It was smashed during a Papist riot. Mrs. McRae’s fiancé was
killed by a mob that same day. She and her brother went to London, and found
a place next door to Mr. McRae’s lodgings. He, too, was new to the city. That
is how they met.”
“Mr. McRae and his family have been at Enderly most of the afternoon, sirs,”
volunteered the agent. “That is one reason why he could not accompany us to
Brougham Hall. They have brought Etáin’s harp, at Mr. Vishonn’s request, so
that she could rehearse some songs with James.”
“Who is also an admirable baritone,” remarked Mrs. Stannard. “Those two may
be a match,” she added, “though Mrs. McRae does not encourage the rumor.”
“Nor does Etáin,” said her husband. “Her heart is set on Mr. Frake.”
“Her mother encourages that match with her resounding silence on the
possibility, every time the subject is raised.”
Hugh Kenrick asked, “Do you think Mr. Frake will attend tonight?”
Stannard sighed. “Very likely, sir. And, he may bring his own fireworks.”
* * *
By London standards, it was a small assembly; by rural colonial, a large. Some
forty adults arrived at Enderly to celebrate Wolfe’s victory at Quebec, mostly
neighboring planters and their wives, together with some children and a smattering
of adolescents. All were dressed in their best finery: the men in velvet or
wool frock coats, waistcoats, and perukes, the women in hooped taffeta or silk
gowns, and coiffed hair adorned with pearls, plumes and ribbons. Reece Vishonn
had, as usual, arranged to allow his guests to leave their mounts and conveyances
beyond the courtyard, where a liveried slave watched them and tended them with
water and oats. The guests then walked through the cresset-lit courtyard to
the house, where they were greeted in the breezeway by one or another of the
Vishonn family. Reece Vishonn, a large, florid-faced man in green silks and
an immaculate pigtailed wig, welcomed Mr. Stannard’s party with an almost garrulous
flourish. He gave Arthur Stannard barely enough time to introduce his visitors.
“Mr. Talbot…Mr. Kenrick, it is such a pleasure to meet you! Mr. McRae told me
you were looking over the Swart place. Well, it is my earnest hope that there
is a change of ownership! How long will you stay in our fair town?”
Otis Talbot said, “We take the Amelia back to Philadelphia tomorrow
afternoon, sir.”
“What a pity! I should like to have had you both over for a private supper.
Has Mr. Stannard told you everything about the property?”
Hugh Kenrick smiled. “What little he may have neglected to tell us, sir, we
have deduced for ourselves. No decision has been made yet concerning a purchase.”
“Well…,” said Mr. Vishonn, wanting to frown in disappointment. “Perhaps this
evening’s jollities will help you to decide! Because so many are expected, my
lady has elected to forgo a formal table and lay out a buffet, which has already
been removed from the kitchen. We will have a bonfire down by the water, and
some fireworks about midnight. And, of course, there will be dancing aplenty,
all night, for as
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