The Savage Inheritance

A Quatrain of Pigeons

Boston, 1747

Joshua Templeton followed close behind as Mary Stewart strutted past the food stands, her nose lifted in scrutiny. Unlike other houses, Missus Martin enjoyed directing meal preparation. She had come from more humble roots as the sister of a curate. She enjoyed surveying the cooking and would even lend a hand in the kitchen. It only endeared her more to Mary and made her particular about the ingredients she bought at the market.

"Fresh?" Mary sniffed and lifted her eyebrows at Joshua.

Mister Martin's valet smirked as he coolly appraised the fish stand. "Perhaps last week..."

With a lingering sigh, Mary ignored the earnest expression on the fishmonger's red face and continued on with the crowd. She had hoped to find some nice herring as a surprise for Missus Martin who enjoyed it in pie, but not if it wasn't up to her standards.

"Perhaps some pigeon for a pie." Mary stopped at a well organized counter where fowl of all kinds hung in a neat row above a clean, friendly woman with a young girl at her side. She smiled cordially. "Good morning, Missus Bertram. Miss Joy."

Missus Bertram and her daughter chatted heartily with Mary as they wrapped a quatrain of pigeon for her. "With the livers and hearts intact, it makes the best pie that way."

Joshua reached for the package while Mary dug into her little draw string purse for the money. As she retrieved the coins, the odd card with the rough drawing of the entwined figures fell and was caught by the breeze.

"Oh!" Mary exclaimed.

Handing the coins to little Joy Bertram, she started in the direction of the card. She wasn't sure where she had first found it, the memory escaped her, but she had felt an unusual attachment to it. It fell at the crossroads beyond the market square. The heavy midwinter clouds parted and a spray of sickly yellow sunlight gleamed on the frosted cobblestones. Mary leaned down to retrieve the card when someone else snatched it from her grasp. Broken fingernails and greasy hands, a sour smell emanated from the man's ragged clothes, his eyes were a startling blue, flashing as he turned the card over in his hands.

Mary gathered herself and held out her palm with a haughty tilt of her head. "If you please, sir, that belongs to me."

"No, I believe it doesn't, mistress," the odd fellow replied with a teasing grin as he scratched his stringy beard. "Where did you find it?"

Joshua caught up and stood protectively at her shoulder. "Sir, that belongs to Miss Stewart-"

"No, no, we've already established that it doesn't. I'll give it back, but I would like to know how this little servant girl came into possession of it." The man blinked back up at Mary, his gaze piercing her with interest.

Instead of feeling frustration, Mary found herself confused as though she had woken up expecting to be in one room, but was in another place entirely. She had found the card while she was sitting in a small private room of a tavern with a plate of seed cakes and talking with a gentleman in an oxblood coat. 

No. No, she had been standing on the threshold of a great house, the foyer filled with boxes upon boxes of books. No, that wasn't it either. 

She had been running from a burning building, the heat sizzling through the back of her nightgown, and the card had been blown by the wind into her path. 

No. That couldn't have been it, those were all dreams-

"Sir, I will not ask again. If you do not return the lady's card, I will call for the police," Joshua demanded, breaking her from the trance.

Mary tore her eyes from the man, clearly a gypsy from the rural wilds of their colony, and swallowed hard. Heat washed over her face despite the chill in the air. 

No, she was Mary Stewart. She was a servant in the house of Mister and Missus Martin and she'd found the card sitting on the sidewalk at the bottom of the front steps to the house. Her racing thoughts halted and she was herself again.

"Never mind, Joshua. If the gentleman wants it that badly he can keep it," she snapped, starting to turn away.

The man's greasy hand shot out and snatched her wrist. Too surprised to pull away, she stared wide eyed into his wild gaze. He pressed the card into her palm. "Keep this on you, Miss. I don't need to give you a reading to know you are in danger. The man who has the rest of the deck, he is your last tie to the world you knew, should you want it back. Find him before it's lost. Before you are lost to the things you run from."

He loosed her as Joshua took a threatening step forward. He then scuttled into the crowd and was lost. The clouds veiled the sun and a gloom fell over the street. With trembling fingers, she turned the card over and studied the back where the paste had eaten through the cardboard. A messy scrawl of a name was etched at the bottom with only three legible letters, R-A-M. Ram?

"Are you well, Miss Mary?" Joshua laid a steady hand on her upper arm. "Come now, let's go home and get you warm. You're shaking like a leaf."

Mary nodded numbly and took Joshua's elbow as he led her back to the Martin house.