Judas Flowering by Jane Aiken Hodge

have my niece’s heart broken if I can help it. If you remember, I warned Francis once about his dallying with Abigail. When that had no effect, naturally I spoke to my sister. Granted the choice between behaving himself and going to starve in Charleston, Francis seems to have seen the error of his ways. But I’m sorry he should have chosen such a brutal way of making the position clear. And anxious for little Miss Phillips, too, who seems in a fair way to have her head turned. What a strange creature she is, though. There’s no understanding her. Do you remember how broad she spoke that first night she came, and now there’s not a pin to choose between her accent and Abigail’s. I expect, all in all, she’s quite capable of taking care of herself.”
    â€œI certainly hope so,” said Hart.
    â€œI’m sure she is.” Mrs Purchis had convinced herself. “She’s certainly made a place for herself here at Winchelsea. But whether that’s a good thing—We have to think of the future, Hart, hers as well as ours. I wish you would let me look out for a situation for her.”
    â€œA situation? What do you mean?” His tone surprised her.
    â€œWell, as a governess.” She gave him a quick, almost apologetic glance. “Or a housekeeper? She’d be worth her weight in gold to a widower with a houseful of children. Or there’s Saul Gordon. You know how his poor wife ails. He said a word to me just the other day.”
    â€œNo,” said Hart Purchis. “I invited her here, and here she stays.”
    â€œOh, very well.” His mother shrugged it off and picked up her embroidery. “I won’t say she doesn’t make herself useful.I just hope Francis doesn’t break her heart for her. Sometimes I almost wish he’d go back to Charleston.”
    â€œSo do I,” said Hart, and surprised himself.

Chapter 4
    The spring planting was finished, the fields had been flooded for the second time to kill the weeds, and the young rice stood four inches high, when an unexpected guest drove up the long ilex avenue to Winchelsea. One look at the emblazoned panels of the light carriage and Mrs Purchis sent a servant hurrying across the fields for her son, while she cast a quick, approving glance over the dark silk dress Mercy Phillips had made for her, and hurried down to greet her visitor.
    â€œSir James, how good of you!” She held out a warm hand in greeting. Regardless of politics, everyone in Savannah liked Sir James Wright, who had been royal Governor of Georgia for ten years and had done much to keep the peace there.
    â€œI have sent for my son,” Mrs Purchis said when the first greetings were over. “He will be here directly. I hope.”
    â€œHe works hard, I hear.” Sir James seated her courteously and then took an upright chair himself.
    â€œToo hard, I think. With the plantation in the daytime, and his studies at night.” She coloured. “You have heard, perhaps, about his plans?”
    â€œFor Harvard College and the dangerous north? Yes, ma’am, I must tell you that that is, in part, my business with him. But we will save it until he comes, if you please.”
    â€œYes.” She sighed. “If only I could have let him go to England as he wished. But how could I, Sir James? My only son, and I left as I was. Winchelsea needs Purchis.”
    â€œThen I hope we can persuade Purchis to stay at Winchelsea.” He turned as Hart entered the room, his fair hair sleeked damply down from a rapid combing, his cravat showing unmistakable signs of hasty tying.
    â€œForgive me, sir.” He took Sir James’ hand in his firmgrasp. “I was out at the sluices when I heard you were come.”
    â€œYou were quick,” Sir James approved.
    Hart laughed. “We have a system,” he explained. “It’s useful. It’s a bad day, and trouble for everyone, if it takes more than ten