Although Camden would have been content to walk the last leg of the journey, Governor Tyler had insisted on hiring a carriage for him. It relieved him of the minor burden of carrying his small bag of belongings, but deprived him of the opportunity to do more reflection.
From all the ink the papers had already spilled, Camden knew that the work was only really at a beginning. The Treaty of Louisville still had to be ratified by the General Assembly. He was not yet quite as astute in the art of political prediction as Mr. Randolph, but it seemed to him that the treaty was a good one that the General Assembly would accept. How much of a show of disapproval some members of the Assembly would put on before its ratification remained to be seen.
As the carriage rounded the last corner a wave of exhaustion washed over Camden. The return journey from Kentucky had been plagued by a rash of unseasonably wet weather, requiring frequent stops and a ponderous pace. More than once Camden had gotten down from the coach to help the drivers dislodge a wheel or lead the team of horses across a questionable patch of ground. Though he had been apprenticed to Mr. Randolph the last several years he had not altogether lost his farmer’s work ethic nor the physical frame.
Upon arriving, Camden collected his bag and trudged up the few steps to the front door of Mr. Randolph’s house. As he put his hand to the door he looked to his right and saw a glow coming from the sitting room window. He had written Mary to tell her to expect him in the next day or two, but it was not like her to light a room that she was not using. As he opened the door, the light that spilled out of the sitting room and into the hallway was accompanied by the sound of laughter.
“I see, brother, that your wit remains unaffected,” said a voice that Camden recognized as that of Georgiana’s mother. He came into the doorway and saw four people seated in the room: Mr. Randolph, the Senator and his wife, and Georgiana who was facing toward her uncle and the fire, with her back to the doorway.
Mr. Randolph noticed him first and half rose out of his chair with an exclamation, “Aha! My long-lost partner returns!”
Georgiana turned and rose from her chair in a single, graceful motion and seemed to float across the short space between them. She threw her arms around his neck in a burst of affection. Camden placed his hand gently on the back of her head which she had buried in his chest. He thought his clothes must have carried the aromas of the road and the stable, but Georgiana did not seem to care. As he peered up at her parents, it became apparent that they were somewhat surprised at their daughter, but not displeased.
“Welcome home,” Georgiana said softly.
Mr. Randolph repeated his own “Welcome home!” with greater exclamatory power. “Let me get you a chair.”
“You’ll do no such thing, uncle,” Georgiana scolded. “Father will fetch a chair from your office, but you are still too weak from the journey to exert yourself.”
Camden suppressed the urge to chuckle. The way she cared for him almost as a mother—and the dignified, but ultimately futile, faux resistance that Mr. Randolph offered against his being cared for—amused Camden to no end. He accompanied Senator Randolph across the hall and relieved his soon-to-be father in law of the chair. Camden did not think it was one of the heavier chairs in the house, but he had to admit that it was rather bulky and hard to grasp well. The Senator would likely never have admitted to struggling to carry it, but Camden knew better and it had always been in his nature to help.
“The ship was really the most pleasant part of the journey,” Mr. Randolph said when they had all resumed their seats. “The weather was placid and my lodgings were almost as comfortable as my own bedroom here.”
“Georgiana saw to that, I suppose,” interjected her father. “I wager that the captain did not realize he was taking on another bosun for the voyage.”
“Oh, Father!”
Mr. Randolph laughed so hard Camden was afraid he would burst. It was a side of the Senator that Camden had not seen before, one far less serious and austere than his usual bearing.
Mrs. Burwell patted her daughter's hand gently and said, “Oh my dear, you must admit that you have a commanding presence at times. It will serve you well in managing your own household one day—one day very soon, I hope?”
The question was ostensibly addressed to Georgiana, but her mother was looking at Camden as she posed it.
“Elizabeth, do be reasonable,” Mr. Randolph interjected. “The two of them have only just returned to Richmond within the past couple of days.”
“A proper wedding takes time to plan, my dear. You have not so soon forgotten our own?” Senator Burwell added.
“So soon, you say? No, I have not forgotten, James, but you seem to have forgotten that we marked our twenty-fifth year of marriage not more than a few weeks ago.”
“And nothing but wedded bliss from this day to that, I am sure,” Mr. Randolph said. “An occasion that certainly lends itself to a toast of some kind. And Georgiana you may spare yourself the breath; the physician has said that I may take a little brandy for my stomach whenever I choose and that it would do me no harm. Mr. Page, I believe you will find the bottle in its usual place, if you please?”
Camden went to the special drawer on the underside of his partner’s desk and retrieved the bottle there, but found that it was unopened. He took it back to the sitting room and handed it to Mr. Randolph, asking, “Is this the one you wanted? I thought there was another.”
The senior partner examined the bottle closely and concluded, “Yes, this is it. I placed it there myself just this afternoon in anticipation of your return. Now we have ample reason to open it.”
Small glasses were retrieved from the kitchen. The women declined their draughts, contenting themselves with their tea—which was still quite warm, they assured the men.
“If I may?” Camden began, raising his glass. “For all who know you, Senator and Mrs. Burwell—and with apologies to Mr. Shakespeare—it is clear that God, the best maker of all marriages, has combined your hearts into one. May He grant you many more years of loving union.”
“Here, here!” cried Mr. Randolph.
They sipped from their glasses and Senator Burwell rose from his chair to return the favor.
“I thank you for the kind words, my son. My wife and I wish nothing more for you and our daughter than that your hearts would be knit together in love . . . and that the celebration of your nuptials may take place at a time judged sufficiently felicitous by my wife.”
The Senator winked at his wife dramatically before downing the rest of his drink and retaking his seat.
They passed the next hour or more in pleasant conversation. Camden and Georgiana each recounted details of their journeys that they had not yet been able to share with the other members of their little gathering. The Senator studiously avoided talk of the General Assembly while Mrs. Burwell missed no opportunity to try to subtly steer the conversation back to the topic of the wedding. The clock across the hall began to chime the hour of nine and Georgiana interrupted Mr. Randolph just as he was beginning a story.
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“That will have to wait for some other occasion, I’m afraid,” she said. “The doctor may have been free with the prescription of brandy, but he’s also been very clear and very strict about your sleep.”
Mr. Randolph set his eyes in that peculiar way that Camden had learned to read as a signal that something was going on in his partner’s mind more than his words themselves conveyed.
“Indeed he has, yes,” was all that Mr. Randolph said before the Senator and Mrs. Burwell rose to say their farewells. His sister gave him a gentle hug and he admonished the Senator, saying, “Give me a firm handshake, James; you won’t shatter my bones!”
As they turned to depart and Georgiana began to follow them toward the hall, Mr. Randolph let loose with what Camden considered a rather convincing performance, as if he had been the victim of a most serious affront.
“And am I to receive no farewell embrace from my dear and beloved niece?”
“Whatever are you talking about, Uncle Joseph? It is my parents who are leaving for the evening.”
“You don’t mean to say that you intend to stay the night here?” Mr. Randolph said, placing a hand on his cheek in what Camden considered a less convincing gesture.
Georgiana, looking genuinely puzzled, said, “Why of course I mean to stay here. I have been taking care of you all this time and I mean to see that you are off to bed at a reasonable hour.”
“Here? The house where your intended husband will also be sleeping and you would have no one but a confirmed bachelor as chaperone? No, I think not, Georgiana. I cannot be a party to anything that might cast even the slightest pall of doubt on your honor.”
Georgiana scoffed. “Why, Uncle, I cannot imagine what is making you be so perfectly—”
“Ridiculous, is what you are about to say?” Mr. Randolph helpfully supplied. Georgiana nodded. “Yes, I suppose I may have been a little ridiculous just now, but I assure you it was only to hold your attention.”
Camden cast a glance at his beloved and then at his law partner. The exchange seemed somehow different from their usual verbal jousting.
“Well, you have my attention now,” Georgiana said, growing serious.
“I am not a young man any more, as you well know. The recovery from my fall has been difficult at times and you have been there for almost all of it. For your help and for your companionship during my convalescence I am more grateful than words can express. If you were my own daughter, I could hardly expect you to show more devotion toward me, nor expect my own heart to hold any more love for you.”
Taking the opportunity of the brief pause in his speech, Georgiana crossed the room, stooped to her Uncle’s side, and threw her arms around his neck. He continued speaking only after Georgiana sat back on the couch next to him, taking his hand in her own.
“However,” he began, “life around here must return to normal. I cannot claim any right to your attention that would supersede that of your husband—and your husband he will be very soon.”
He paused and Camden knew it was because that would be the point at which Georgiana was most likely to throw up another objection, but she did not. Rather, it seemed to Camden that she steeled herself for what was to follow, jutting her chin out almost imperceptibly. Though her eyes were slightly red from tears and her mouth was frozen in a look of resolution, somehow, Camden thought, she had never looked more lovely to him than in that moment.
“As much as possible, I must begin to see to my own needs. For tonight I have Mr. Page who will offer more than adequate assistance. Your gentle touch he most certainly does not have, but if need be I have no doubt that he could carry me up the stairs like a child and lay me in my own bed.”
Georgiana suppressed a small laugh at that and Camden was forced to grin as well.
“Not that I think it shall come to that tonight or any time soon, mind you,” Mr. Randolph quickly added with a smile.
“Very well,” she said as she smoothed the folds of her skirt. Mr. Randolph offered her a handkerchief and she lightly dabbed at her eyes.
“I must, however, obtain your solemn promise,” she said, turning to Camden, “that you will follow both the letter and the spirit of the doctor’s instructions.”
Camden raised his hand, as if he were about to take the witness stand in court, and said, “On my word of honor.”
Having contented herself with that offer of assurance, Georgiana kissed each of the men on the cheek and exited with her parents.
“Now then,” Mr. Randolph said when the door had shut behind his guests. “About the Vermont Republic.”
“Hadn’t we better save that for the morning?” Camden asked.
“The physician prescribed more sleep, not that I must take to bed by any particular hour. Besides, I don’t mean to stay up all night talking.”
Camden put up no further protest. Mr. Randolph could be every bit as stubborn as Georgiana ever hoped to be.
“As I was about to say,” he continued, “the Vermont Republic, I think, is almost certain to attach itself to the Confederation. Tumbling down those stairs created many more opportunities than I otherwise would have had.”
Camden, puzzled by that remark, asked, “How can that be?”
“I was quite surprised by it myself, in fact,” Mr. Randolph continued, patting the pockets in his jacket as he usually did when searching for his pipe tobacco.
“Confound that niece of mine!” he exclaimed. “To deprive a man . . . well it’s no matter at the moment. But as it happened, after I was sufficiently recovered enough that the doctor and his unexpected assistant and enforcer, your wife-to-be, allowed me to have visitors, one would have thought some relic of antiquity were on display at the boarding house, so long and continuous was the procession of men who came to see me. Nor was it only those who were inclined to agree with me, but even some of those most adamantly in favor of independence or union with Canada who came to apprise themselves of my well-being.”
“You were able to persuade some of them, then? Joining themselves to Quebec seemed like a tantalizing possibility.”
“Indeed it was and still is. I am confident that one or two who were wavering in their support for coming into our Confederation were bolstered in their resolve. One or two who wavered in the other direction came over to my way of thinking. As for those most strongly going in the other direction, I cannot say with confidence that I fully persuaded any of them. What I was able to do, however, was to make them think, to see the situation in a different light.”
Camden pondered that for a moment. “We’ll know for sure before long, I suppose,” he said.
“Indeed. Indeed we will.”
“It’s a sort of a trial, isn’t it? A test of whether the Confederation will continue past the present generation?”
“Yes, but even more than that, I think,” Mr. Randolph added. “It will answer the question whether this experiment in self-government and freedom can work at all. If any nation is up to the challenge, I believe we Americans are.”
“I hope you are right. I hope, too, that Georgiana has not deliberately ‘forgotten’ some personal effect of hers so that she may return and catch you out of bed.”
“Hmmm,” moaned Mr. Randolph. With a small effort he pushed himself up from his chair by the fireplace and headed for the stairs. He paused at the bottom of the staircase, placing his right hand on the banister. Camden gently supported his other elbow as they started slowly upward.
“But you haven’t even told me about the big trial,” Mr. Randolph said, continuing almost as if he had not paused at all.
“There will be plenty of time for that later. Besides, there will be much to do tomorrow and we both will need to be well-rested.”
As they reached his bedroom door, Mr. Randolph said, “I suppose you are right. Our partnership really is still just beginning. I’m glad to have you back.”
“Likewise, sir. I am glad to be back.”
Mr. Randolph insisted that he needed no further help from that point. If he were to meet with any disaster in the process of getting into his bedclothes, he was certain that Camden would be able to hear it from the next room over and come in plenty of time.
“And I might still be a little weak,” he said, “but I’m not so old and frail that I need help with everything.”
After the door closed Camden lingered in the hallway for just a moment. He heard what he took to be Mr. Randolph’s shuffling through his wardrobe and then, a minute later, plopping into his bed. A faint blowing sound and the darkening of the crack under the door signaled the extinguishing of the lamp.
Camden was glad to be back. He wished only that he had said “glad to be back home,” for it was his home. Circumstances had placed him at the bar in a highly-publicized criminal trial and thrust him into the middle of peace negotiations that affected thousands. With the pressures had come excitement—almost more excitement than he thought himself capable of handling—but he had found no lasting contentment in the thrill of the courtroom or the perils of the western wilderness.
As he sat on his own bed a few minutes later, he considered the possibility that he would make no further marks on the pages of history. He realized, however, that it did not matter, that all he wanted in his life had been under his own roof that evening. The thought comforted him and, after saying his prayers, he drifted off easily to sleep.
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