Free Sea of Christmas Miracles by Christine Dorsey

with the amount needed
for Edward’s schooling.
    Considering her situation, she was
exceedingly grateful when Mr. Chipford introduced her to a factor
who arranged her impending marriage. She was relieved to receive
Robert MacQuaid’s proposal. Despite the fact it involved her
leaving England and her brother.
    There was certainly no one else she
knew willing to wed a penniless woman past her prime.
    Raff MacQuaid’s legs were long, and his
stride matched. Though her hand, pale in comparison, rested on his,
Caroline had to quicken her step to keep up as they wove through
the people crowding the narrow wooden sidewalk of Broad Street.
Soldiers in bright scarlet uniforms mingled with blackamoors. She
even saw a man she thought must be one of the Indians native to the
New World. His head was shaved save for a long tuft sprouting from
the top of his well-shaped head. He was tall, his body covered with
a mismatched array of leather leggings and richly brocaded
waistcoat.
    Intrigued, Caroline considered asking her
companion about the Indian. But one glance at Raff MacQuaid’s
profile told her he didn’t wish to be bothered by idle questions.
Caroline even hesitated to inquire how much farther they were to
walk before reaching his father’s house.
    When he stopped, so abruptly that Caroline
nearly bumped into him, in front of the structure at the corner of
Broad and Meeting Streets, Caroline looked up questioningly. The
building was brick and very imposing, with four large columns. She
didn’t think it was a private dwelling, but when Raff MacQuaid led
her up the steps, she wondered.
    “Does your father await me here?” she asked
after hesitating to catch her breath.
    His laugh was deep and low, and Caroline felt
the heated blush that darkened her skin.
    “My father awaits Your Ladyship at his
home... west of here, at the base of the mountains.”
    Mountains? She’d seen no mountains. But
before she could ask where there were mountains in this flat land,
he opened the heavy paneled door and ushered her inside. “It is the
governor whom we shall see here.”
    Rather he shall see, Caroline thought
nearly two hours later as she sat straight-backed on the chair in
the small anteroom. A cup of tea, cold and forgotten, sat on the
small table at her elbow, fetched for her by the young man behind
the mahogany desk. He wore a wig too large for his narrow face and
sat hunched over a piece of parchment. He scrawled feverishly with
a quill, and Caroline imagined he was pretending he didn’t hear the
shouting that came from behind the closed door. The door Robert’s
son had passed through.
    Caroline shifted in her seat, meeting the
gaze the young assistant darted her way, before quickly focusing on
her folded hands. Whatever the dispute between Raff MacQuaid and
the colony’s governor, it was loud and heated. At least on Raff’s
part. Every now and then Caroline could hear the other voice—the
governor, she assumed—take on a conciliatory tone. But her
betrothed’s son was having none of it.
    “Does the treaty of 1730 mean nothing then?”
she heard him ask in his deep, strong voice. “Is that what I am to
tell my people when I return? That the English king in all his
infinite wisdom has decided to break his word?”
    Caroline sucked in her breath and bit her
bottom lip, unabashedly listening for the governor’s response to
that question, which to her mind bordered on treason. She almost
expected to see the governor burst through the door and call for
guards to come haul away her companion.
    But again his words were soft and
soothing.... Caroline could almost imagine the governor wringing
his hands. He mentioned something about raids on the colonists
being punished.
    “And what of the Cherokee warriors who were
killed, their scalps sold to Virginia’s governor. Was it not
acceptable to avenge them?”
    “English law states—”
    “It is always English law. What of Cherokee
law?”
    In the silence that followed Caroline