Newgate Prison Copper Mines and the Irish Lass Colonial America Romance

Chapter Seven

Christina knew she would have to keep herself occupied until Saturday came around. If she were very fortunate, at this very moment her letter was being carried, slowly but surely, the miles east to Windsor, to the Eagle Tavern. In a few hours, William might be opening the seal and smelling the rosemary soap's fragrance.

The thought brought a smile to her lips.

But it meant she had to be patient. Even if William immediately wrote her a response, even if he gave it right back to the messenger, she would not see those words until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.

She had to distract herself.

It was the perfect time to make progress with the hemp.

Her family farm, like every other one as far as the eye could see, was engaged in growing hemp for the colonies. A hundred years ago, the crop was simply a general-use necessity for the sails, ropes, and other aspects of maintaining trade with England and Europe. But once Britain had slammed the door shut on the colony's lucrative wool trade, and forbidden colonists from selling wool or wool products to any but their designated buyers, the colonists had fought back.

They had turned to hemp.

Now, rather than buying clothing from England, every colonist did their best to use native-made help cloths and fabrics. Christina's Nana had thoroughly supported sticking one to King George on this thoroughly domestic front, and her small, well-used spinning wheel now belonged to Christina.

Her father, in late September, had harvested the hemp, just before it went to seed, so it was supple and strong. They'd laid the stalks across the fields for a full four weeks to age, turning them regularly.

They had just dumped the hemp stalks into the water-filled pit alongside the barn on Saturday. And then had come the snows. But the sun had come again, the snows were melting, and the hemp in the pit looked perfect for splitting open.

She was ready.

She wore her work-dress of olive green with the apron over it. Her father stood alongside her in the bright November sun. He looked more full of energy than she'd seen him in a while.

She smiled at him. "You're sure you're up for this?"

He chuckled. "It's a fine way to work out one's aggressions."

They set to work.

The hemp stalks had split open, revealing the soft, strong fibers within. But there was a challenge. At the very core of each stalk was the hurd – the woody core. Her father gathered those up to sell down in Hartford, for paper-making. They needed to keep the hemp itself, for her to spin into thread for fabric.

Now that the hemp had been aged and softened, they just had to convince it to separate.

The air was fresh and clean, the sun was high, and it was nice to be out working side by side with her father. She knew some of the larger farms had equipment to manage this separation process, but she found she preferred the simpler approach. She had her hands on every step of the conversion of seed to finished product. It made her content.

They stopped for lunch, then worked long until the shadows stretched across the pasture. At last the wagon was loaded with the hurd, while the hemp threads were neatly stacked in a corner of the barn.

Her father smiled at her. "Ah, you're a good lass. That's the last of it."

She rolled her shoulders. "Aye, and I'll be combing from morning to night for the next week, to finish preparing the hemp for use. But that's tolerable work for inside by the fire. I find it almost meditative. It will be good work for me, while I am on this retreat."

There was a movement at the far end of the road.

She turned her head.

Was that a form there, sitting on a high bay horse? Was that a glint of blond hair in the setting sun's light?

Her father shook his head. "The damned fool seems to want to check up on you. To make sure you really are staying put."

She laughed. "Well, he'll be disappointed if that is to be his duty for the next twenty-eight days. And as long as he stays past the fence, I don't mind one whit where he chooses to ride."

But, still, when they went inside, she made sure all the shutters were drawn tight and barred. She ensured the drapes were closed tight.