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Hold Me Close: Revolutionary Faith Book One

By Marguerite Martin Gray

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Chapter 1

Charles Town, South Carolina
September 1772
Louis Lestarjette stepped off the ramp onto dry land after weeks on the Sainte Claire. A line of carriages awaited weary travelers on the other side of the dusty boulevard. But none for Louis. With his luggage stored for the day at the dock, he set out with an address in hand. As he headed down Bay Street to Church Street, he felt like his legs still thought they were on a rolling ship’s deck. Five weeks and four thousand miles later, he wanted to believe success lurked around the corner.
Turning on Tradd Street, he breathed in the humid air of Charles Town. He walked for several blocks at a brisk pace, looking to his left and right. Finally, he spotted Wilson’s Mercantile. Welcome or unwelcome, he had finally reached his destination. Nothing he had seen was familiar or even remotely similar to Paris. Even the tree-lined streets with mansions hiding private gardens paled in comparison to his home.
The bell on the door gave away his entrance, but he quickly hid under the brim of his hat—not yet ready to reveal his identity. The spices on the aisle to his right offered a ruse. The heavy scent of cinnamon and nutmeg reminded him of the cargo on the ship that had brought him to this remote town.
How could a city of twelve thousand people help the family business? Louis shook his head as the reality faced him again. He was a twenty-six-year old Frenchman who didn’t even have a place to stay. Right now he did not care, for distance from his older brother couldn’t have come soon enough.
When the bell tinkled again, Louis raised his head and watched as a customer exited. Genteel eyes then met his, and a trim lady with a hint of gray in her hair walked toward him. Her purposeful steps and steady gaze held him in place. Somehow she knew. The realization sent shivers down his spine. He was no longer alone in Charles Town.
“Louis? Louis Lestarjette.” She embraced and kissed him before he confirmed her suspicions.
“Tante Jeannette, I hope.” Louis laughed at the awkward greeting.
His aunt touched his face with her fingertips and then clasped his wrists and stepped back with a bright smile. Her animation reminded him of his mother.
“I would have recognized you anywhere. You look just like my father with your big light-blue eyes and dark wavy hair.”
“It’s nice to see you. Did you receive my letter?” He doubted it, since he’d left so quickly.
“No, not a recent one. I’m happily surprised though.”
She led him to a bench situated by the door. “Why are you here?”
How much should I tell her? I can’t tell her I just want to make a huge profit and leave this place soon.
“I left rather quickly. I’m sure you’ll receive my letter soon.” Trying to relax, he fought a battle with his legs’ wanting to keep moving.
Tante Jeannette’s tilted head and hands, making circular motions, spurred him on to release some pieces of his sudden appearance. “Recent correspondences between Oncle Henry and André spoke of a joint venture. We would like to offer shipments of French merchandise to your store and purchase items from the colonies. We see this business enterprise as a way for everyone to profit.” And, Louis hoped, a way to gain my independence from a suffocating existence.
“I’m sure Henry will be very excited. He’s talked about it for over a year now, and finally something might happen. Do tell me you plan to stay here in Charles Town for a while?”
“Yes, that’s what I had planned. Do you know of a suitable boarding house?”
“Louis, I wouldn’t think of it. You must stay with us. The house is too big for your uncle and me. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” She shifted to the edge of the bench and clapped her hands. “I’ll have everything prepared for you.”
“Thank you, Tante Jeannette. I’m relieved.” Truthfully, the fewer people he had to live with day to day would be better.
“We’ll talk more at the noon meal. There’s so much to discuss.” She stood up, took his hands, and pulled him up into a warm hug.
The bell sounded behind him, and his aunt released him. Someone caused her to jump the few steps to the door. He turned and saw the object of her joy.
“Elizabeth, I’m so glad you came in. I want you to meet my nephew, Louis Lestarjette. He just arrived from France. Louis, this is Elizabeth Elliot.”
“Mademoiselle Elliot, I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Mr. Lestarjette.” Her deep, blue-gray eyes peered from under her cap where curly light-brown hair escaped. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Jeannette has spoken of you often. I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”
“I’m afraid I gave no warning.”
His aunt giggled and waved her hand as if to shoo a fly away. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll send word to have a room and food prepared. I want you to go meet your uncle in the storeroom while I help Elizabeth.”
Louis watched the young woman in her blue dress with a bright-yellow sash amble away with his aunt. Their heads bent in whispers. A moment later, Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, a smile curling her lips. What did my aunt just tell her?
Careful, Louis. Women are off limits—even friends of Tante Jeannette. Everything must remain casual, no commitments.
~~~
Elizabeth severed her gaze from the charming Frenchman. No way would she be taken in by a French accent and a fashionable suit of clothing on a handsome foreigner.
“Well, what do you think?” Jeannette cocked her head.
“Think about what?”
“Louis, silly.” Jeannette steered Elizabeth to the counter away from any other customers.
“Charming.” Was that word safe enough? “His English is almost perfect with just the right amount of je ne sais pas quoi. Perhaps, intrigue?”
“Peut-être. He’s definitely a mystery to me,” Jeannette said. “I have no idea of why he’s here. I’m excited about having him, though. I believe there’s more to his sudden arrival than he’s saying.”
Elizabeth’s gaze circled the store, making sure the one in question wasn’t privy to their conversation. She leaned closer to her friend. “Could it be a romance that soured, a business deal gone wrong, or is he running from something?”
Jeanette replaced her smile with a frown. “Or maybe he simply wants a change or an adventure?”
Elizabeth felt guilty for playfully accusing Louis of unfounded crimes.
“Let’s see what you have on your list today. Figuring out Louis will take more time than I have right now.”
“I agree.” Elizabeth picked up her basket from the counter. “I need some cabbage, parsley, and radish seeds as well as tulip and iris bulbs.”
“So, it’s garden work for you today.”
“The day’s too pretty to spend inside.” Her garden behind her house tended to be a pleasant diversion from any problems from the outside world. A place to escape, pray, and read.
“How’s business?” Elizabeth asked as she looked at the shelves supporting all of the essentials from flour to garden tools, material to dinnerware.
“Believe it or not, business hasn’t slacked up even with the threat of a boycott. People still seem to find a way to buy the basics,” Jeannette said. “We’ve pulled away from carrying a lot of crystal and silk, although correspondence indicates Louis and his brother might want to change that and add a few French items, but they’ll have to wrestle with Mr. Wilson who says…”
“The simpler the better. I know. I’ve listened to your husband’s reoccurring speeches about ‘back to basics’ many times.”
“So you actually listen to Henry. He rambles sometimes about the state of the colonies.”
Until recently, Elizabeth would have nodded out of respect, but now she saw some wisdom and foresight in his words. She didn’t exactly know her role as a colonist, but her sympathies edged closer to the precipice of the unknown.
A shadow enveloped them. Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat, not out of fear, but surprise.
“You must have a busy gardener, Miss Elliott,” Louis said.
“Yes, I do. That would be me.” If pride clipped her words, then it was an honest assessment.
His laugh seemed to roll off his tongue with a French accent. “Of course, although not many young ladies I know spend their time in the dirt. You probably know more about planting than I do.”
Where was Jeannette to take up for her? When did she sneak away? He must think I’m a common hired hand.
“I’m still learning. I only have permission to work in certain areas in the garden.” And if her mother had her way, Elizabeth would never plant another seed.
She looked up at the man, a good six inches taller and noticed his slightly raised eyebrows as if deciphering her inner motives.
“I’m interested in seeing what grows here.” He critiqued her purchase. “It seems I’ll know where to look.”
The stranger was nice enough, but he remained a Frenchman in his manners, accent and dress. Even his olive complexion appeared typical of the French. But his light-blue eyes?
Stop it. He’s a foreigner, and I have William.
She’d be happy for Jeannette and friendly toward Mr. Lestarjette. That was all.
“Well, Mr. Lestarjette, I must get to work. Good day, sir. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
He tipped an imaginary hat, moved and let her pass.
Had he noticed her skepticism of an educated man from France, leaving his life in Paris to come to a small colony in America? “I hope you find out what you need to know from him…” Elizabeth said in parting to Jeannette, “…and then share it with me.” She winked.
~~~
“I didn’t find Oncle Henry.” Louis rested his hands on the counter in front of his aunt. His stomach growled, reminding him that his true desire rallied around eating, then unpacking and advancing a month in the future. He surmised there wouldn’t be much for him in Charles Town.
“That’s strange.” Tante Jeannette looked to the back and fidgeted with a spool of ribbon. “He usually tells me when he leaves. Did you look in both storerooms?”
“No, only the one through that door.” He pointed to the only door on the back wall.
“There’s another room inside there. Go knock on that door.”
Louis walked in the storeroom as before, stood with his hands on his hips, and gazed around the room. He saw two more doors—one set of double doors to the outside alley and a solid, semi-opened door on a side wall. He spotted a tall, graying man, wearing a white apron, stepping out of the inner room with two well-dressed men. Laughter drowned out any conversation.
The jovial sounds stopped as Louis approached.
“May I help you, young man?” Louis presumed his uncle was the one speaking.
“Oncle Henry?” Louis asked. Hand out, ready to greet his uncle, Louis met instead a warm, friendly embrace.
“Welcome to Charles Town, Louis.”
“Thank you.” Louis stiffened. Such acceptance from a man I have never seen before? This might be worse than being smothered by my mother for so many years.
The other men broke up the welcome with a round of handshaking and introductions.
“So you’re the nephew from France,” Mr. Raley said.
“We’ve heard good things about you from Henry. I’m surprised to see you in person, though,” Mr. Goodwin added.
“It was always a possibility, but I’m shocked too.” Oncle Henry placed his arm around Louis’ shoulders.
Louis would have to thank his mother and aunt for speaking well of him. Likely, his accent was a dead giveaway when mingled with the pure English of these men. Louis noted the sharp cut of their suits, the crisp collars and tailored style. As they continued their small talk, Louis wondered why they met so far back in the storeroom.
“We were just finishing up here. Gentlemen, I will speak with you later on the matter at hand.” Henry arched his gray brow, and the other men glanced at Louis, shrugged, and walked toward the front of the store.
“Louis, let me finish putting up this load, and I’ll join you for lunch.”
“Do you need any help?” Louis was eager to earn his keep after his aunt’s generous offer. Perhaps the manual labor would wear away his restlessness for a time.
“No, thank you. You take a look around. There’s plenty of time to work later.”
Louis wandered through the well-stocked store. The tall even shelves held bags of beans, flour and sugar. He ran his hand along the shelves. Someone cared enough to dust often. Another row contained blankets, bolts of material, boots, belts and hats. Louis liked the variety of colors and assortment of essentials. His uncle apparently operated a flourishing mercantile, much more promising than Louis had expected. The huge amount of storage in the back used for large items like surplus flour and seed impressed him.
His curiosity guided him back to the storeroom. As he stepped toward the wave of light from the window, he saw deep crevasses in the floor planks by the back wall close to the side door. He knelt and followed the aberration in the floorboards with his eyes. Since no one was around, he ran his fingers along the plank and discovered a latch. He forced it up until he heard a click. Standing, he pulled the door open and laid it to the side. Louis looked around, noting all was clear.
Ten wooden steps led him down to an underground room extending the width of the storeroom above. He lit a lamp on a small table, allowing him to investigate further. Why such a secret place?
Items included tables and chairs, ledgers and pamphlets, dry goods and bolts of heavy material, and sealed crates. What was the purpose of the stock? If there had been only one or two of each item, Louis wouldn’t have questioned. What have I uncovered?
Louis made his way quietly back upstairs, undetected. He closed the door on the secret room and walked toward the mercantile floor entrance.
His aunt peeked through the door in front of him. “Are you hungry, Louis?”
“That doesn’t begin to describe my state.” He was hungry and tired, but also anxious to speed his assignment along.
At noon, the Wilsons and Louis walked to their house next door. Louis found the sideboard in the dining room covered with fresh bread, cold meats, apples, cheese, butter, lemonade, and cold milk—enough food for a dozen guests. Louis’ mouth watered after weeks of stale ship’s food.
“Tante Jeannette, the meal is perfect.” Louis filled his plate and satisfied his hunger with a few stolen bites. Once he sat down, he noticed heads bowed, and he followed the cue.
“God bless this food and use it to nourish us to do Your work. Amen.”
Louis listened to his uncle’s words, surprised a prayer was part of an ordinary noontime meal. Before his death, his father had also prayed like that. His father’s Huguenot beliefs had started the changes in Louis’ life, which had led to a spiral downward to his present situation. At least he knew he couldn’t go any lower. The only way was up.
He sat back in his chair and twirled the stem of his goblet in his fingers. Knowing that the personal family questions would come up soon, Louis decided to engage his uncle instead of camping out in trivial conversation. “Oncle, if all goes as planned, you should receive a shipment of goods from my brother in a few weeks. I think you’ll be pleased with the trading opportunities.”
“It will help a lot with you here in person.”
“I will do what I can.”
“Would you like to work in the store?”
“If you need me, I’d enjoy the opportunity.”
Louis longed to put his business knowledge to work. Could he profit himself as well as his uncle and brother? That was why he had come here—to prove his plans and ideas had merit.
“Oncle, things appear to be calm here in town. I saw very few British soldiers and no apparent discontent. People seem to be going about their business with no problems. I thought it would be different. In the eyes of the French, the colonies are in a constant state of conflict.”
Oncle Henry gnawed on his lower lip and seemed to choose his words carefully. “Since 1771, the Assembly of South Carolina has been the dominant force overshadowing the crown-appointed government.”
“Then the Assembly must consist of the colonists,” Louis noted. He surmised that King George was viewed in the same way as King Louis in France—as a tyrant.
“Yes. It’s the only branch whose membership the people select. Currently, the members are seen as defenders of the people, their properties and their liberty.” Henry paused with his mouth opened as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t.
“Then in name, the British are in control, but the people have a strong voice in the running of the government,” Louis concluded for him.
Oncle Henry drummed his fingers beside his plate. “Enough of politics. I have a feeling you’ll see firsthand the effects of our government. Just stay around a while.” Henry sighed and pulled his fingers into a fist.
Tante Jeannette brightened the atmosphere with the introduction of a cool raisin pudding. The distraction worked, and the conversation turned a corner.
“I know you two could talk business or politics for hours. Don’t forget Charles Town has much to offer in the way of entertainment. Please don’t keep Louis locked up in the store. The first soirée of the season is in a week at the Manigault’s home.” Tante Jeannette peered at Louis over her teacup, blowing away the steam before she sipped.
“This would be a great time to meet other merchants, planters, young men, and of course, young women. And I’ve already accepted the invitation.” She grinned. “You are welcome to join us.”
There was no way out at this point. This talkative, energetic woman showed signs of acting exactly like his mother. Her ability to coerce without offending or manipulating defined their sisterhood. He would do almost anything to earn his way into the wealthy segment of society, that is, anything but marriage.
Jeannette looked directly at Louis. “Do you miss your position in society?”
“I can’t say that I do. There’s something about earning my own place in society, working instead of having it passed down to me. That’s one reason I’m here.” He stared into his teacup. To escape titles and positions but not to escape wealth and opportunity.
He really wanted to focus on work, but work for no man—not even his uncle. This furlough was a means to an end and that end being self-sufficient wealth.
 

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