BASICS

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy Tanner blinked as she entered the Mercantile. The tall wooden shelves that filled the room and were themselves filled with goods blocked out much of the light that streamed in from the large windows toward the front of the store. The bell that hung nearest the door made a tinkling noise as she pushed it open. One of the Maxwell boys was behind the counter and he waved at her with a smile before returning to perusing the newspaper that was spread out on the counter. Betsy considered going up to him and chatting but she knew that if she didn't return promptly with the eggs that the Buckingham's cook had requested, she would be in for a sound tongue lashing and she was simply not in the mood.

It had been nearly a week since she had gotten the job with the Buckinghams and she still didn't have anything to tell Mr. Ashwell. Granted, it had only been a week, but she was still frustrated. How was she supposed to be of any use if she never heard anything? She wandered down the aisles, noting that the jars of jam and honey were all from local farms. The shelf that had formerly been devoted to tea was bare. Luckily, Betsy was more of a water drinker herself, though on the rare night when she had trouble sleeping after a hard day's work at the Buckinghams followed by a few hours of mending with her sisters, she did enjoy a warm glass of milk, though the Tanners never bought that from the mercantile. Mr. Tanner wasn't much of a farmer, but Bessie the cow (whose name, Betsy had always felt, was just a bit too close to her own name) never seemed to fail when it came to producing enough milk for the family.

She made her way to the aisle where the crates of eggs stood and bent over, feeling each egg for cracks before placing it gently in the straw-lined basket she'd brought with her. The tinkling of the doorbell attracted her attention as she straightened, twisting her neck to see who had just walked in.

[OOC: Open!!]

[Mary Ashwell]

The door opened and the bell chimed. Stepping inside the mercantile, Mary Ashwell's eyes swept the room, unconsciously seeking out her Maxwell.

And since when did he become my Maxwell? Mary chided herself, quickly facing a shelf of shoemakers' tools to hide a dim blush. Even more foolishly, she took another guilty glance over her shoulder. He was nowhere in sight. And realizing that the objects in front of her were not the eggs she needed for the cakes to be served at the Buckinghams' party, Mary readjusted and fixed her duties firmly in her mind. Now she could set about the mercantile to accomplish them.

Normally Cook would have attended her to the shop, but they had both been dealt a surprise when Mr Ashwell offered to host a party in honor of Trenton's newest residents. Cook flew into a preparation frenzy, and took Mary with her. The meals, of course, had to be of a quality the Buckinghams would expect. But Mary prayed the party was a step in the right direction and that it would be well attended. Anything else, she feared, would simply prove to her father that he had reason to be so reclusive.

Eggs. Mary was so distracted today! It must have been the party.

Placing a hand on her basket's cover, Mary approached the eggs, but finding another young woman already there, she stopped short. The face was familiar, but Mary could not place it off hand.

"Are there very many cracked today?" Mary offered, as the girl was looking at her. She motioned towards the eggs with a small smile. "Some days' selection seems to be better than others."

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy watched as the girl scanned the room, almost as if she was looking for something, or someone. She was the Ashwell daughter, Mary, Betsy recalled. Though Betsy had met and spoken with Mr. Ashwell several times, as a Patriot informer posing as a Loyalist, he had never had cause to introduce Betsy to his daughter. After all, the Ashwell's were comfortable enough while it was an open secret that the Tanners were always struggling to make ends meet. As she smiled, Mary Ashwell had that look on her face of polite nonrecognition. Which was good. It meant that Betsy was keeping a low enough profile that even her superior's daughter didn't know who she was.

Betsy knew where Mr. Ashwell stood on the matter of the revolution, but his daughter was a whole other story. As Betsy glanced back toward the counter, she remembered the snippets of gossip she'd heard regarding Miss Ashwell and a certain Maxwell son. She didn't put much stock into gossip, but as Mary Ashwell spoke, Betsy couldn't help but wonder if Miss Ashwell might turn into an unexpected ally.

"I've only found two cracked ones," Betsy answered honestly. "They smell fresh too. Were I inclined to gamble, I'd bet Mr. Maxwell bought them this morning, though I can't be certain of course." She smiled warmly, straightening as she did. "I believe we've met, though it was probably many years ago. Betsy Tanner." Placing her left leg behind her right, Betsy dipped into a brief curtsy as she introduced herself.

[Mary Ashwell]

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tanner," Mary replied, dipping into a slight curtsy of her own. "Or meet you again, as the case may be. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it must have been some years ago. Or..." Suddenly, the name leaped off the page in her mind. "Weren't you--"

Mary halted, the words '... weren't you to be married?' suddenly unable and unwilling to be spoken. The name had sounded vaguely familiar, like it came from a dream on which she had a tenuous grasp; and now Mary recalled it entirely. In the circles the Ashwells ran in, word spread like a disease once it was discovered that the dead man killed outside of the Royal Oak a year ago was a Patriot who had joined several others after a night of carousing to hunt Loyalists.

But the political implications didn't matter much to Mary, whose heart saw only a fellow woman who had lost a loved one. The report in the news paper had announced the man's impending marriage to a Miss Betsy Tanner; a marriage that would never take place.

"... Weren't you at the milliner's on Wednesday?" Forgive me, went up a silent apology for the fib. Turning from Miss Tanner, Mary busied herself with eying the selection of eggs, delicately picking one from the bunch, and thoroughly inspecting each angle for cracks. A chosen few made it into her basket, which suddenly held an enormous amount of interest for Mary. "Or perhaps I mistook you for someone else."

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy couldn't help but pick up on the slight hitch in Mary's voice, almost as if she'd caught back some words. She could guess exactly which words Miss Ashwell had reconsidered, as well. If the situation hadn't been so uncomfortable, the pain of Samuel's loss so acute, she would have smiled. How many times had Betsy had to stop herself midsentence to avoid offense? Far too many, her father would say.

She considered addressing the topic head on, but clearly Miss Ashwell was not desirous of such a conversation, as she suddenly became very interested in the eggs in her basket. At this, Betsy did smile. She'd discovered rather quickly that when presented with a murdered fiancé, most were not sure what response was appropriate. Of course, there was the initial rush of sympathy, but Betsy had found that beyond that, grief only served to make people uncomfortable. As Betsy had no desire to cause discomfort to Miss Ashwell, she elected to go along with Miss Ashwell's story. "The milliner's? No, I'm afraid that couldn't have been me. My sisters and I make all of our caps, save the plain straw hats we buy here and embellish ourselves." She motioned to the straw hats tacked upon the wall behind the counter.

[Mary Ashwell]

Mary's brow wrinkled, and she only vaguely raised her eyes to the straw hats on the wall. Their false tête à tête -- brought on by Mary (the milliner's? what was she thinking?) -- made her take a deep sigh and finger the edge of her basket.

How many times had she taken part in a similar conversation, but with Mary in Betsy's place? Conversations, plainly about her father and family, cut short by her arrival. Or questions left unfinished, unasked, and unanswered. Almost nothing more tweaked Mary's mood when others would not honestly discuss her family with her.

"Miss Tanner, please forgive me. I wasn't quite aware that you were the Miss Tanner I read about when-- well-- I'm very sorry for the death of your intended." Mary's words flowed forth, open and honest if not somewhat embarrassed. The Ashwell girl turned again to face Betsy, bowing her head.

"It is a difficult subject to address, I'm sure, and perhaps not entirely appropriate to discuss at this time or place..." She made another survey of the mercantile. Did Miss Tanner share her fiance's political beliefs? With the incensed Maxwells possibly listening behind the counter, Mary feared spending her shopping time embroiled in political discussion. And if Father knew I was shopping at a Patriot store... She shook her head and finished: "... but I would rather not pretend that nothing happened."

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy's mouth fell open in surprise and she nearly dropped the eggs. She couldn't decide if the emotion flooding her was one of relief, of dismay, or of amusement. Possibly it was a combination of the three, and what a strange combination it was. Apparently Miss Ashwell was one of the few in Trenton who did not care to dance around unpleasant topics, who did not simply pretend that an innocent man's death meant nothing just because his friends believed in the "wrong" ideas.

That being said, Betsy was not accustomed to discussing her deepest sorrows with complete strangers. In fact, her own family only knew of her sorrow because the walls of the Tanner house were paper thin and completely useless for blocking out sobs. Even they, however, pretended not to have heard anything when Betsy finally emerged from the room she shared with her sisters, who always found something to be doing when Betsy had that look in her eyes. They never mentioned her bloodshot eyes or tear streaked face or the fact that her nose turned an unfortunate red color when she cried. But Miss Ashwell...well, Miss Ashwell seemed determined to address Betsy's loss. It was odd, really, considering she had no particular reason to care. As far as Betsy knew, there was no connection to the Ashwells and any of the officers involved, save their loyalty to the King.

After the initial shock had passed, Betsy managed to close her mouth, only to open it again as she let out a shaky sigh. "There is nothing to forgive, Miss Ashwell," she said, her voice a tad lower than it had been only moments earlier. "I appreciate your sympathy." She paused, considering the wisdom in saying anything more. After a moment, she continued. "However, I can not surmise what might have prompted your honesty. Not that it isn't appreciated-" here Betsy smiled wryly -"but the fact is, most would prefer to ignore the unpleasantnesses in life. If I might be so bold, why not just continue with our ruse?" Betsy realized she was being forward and probably committing several different errors of etiquette, but she was truly curious about Miss Ashwell's motives.

[Mary Ashwell]

Mary couldn't quite understand the shock in Miss Tanner's face, but she found a small smile forming on her own. She'd seen a similar look once before; when she was at the market some months ago, a graying biddy prattled on about Mr Ashwell-- how he was turning into a hermit-- how he was damaging his poor children's future relations by his bizarre behavior, etc., etc. Too bad that one of his 'poor children' overheard everything.

She had patiently explained the circumstances-- her father's health and the bad weather they were having at that time of year was making it even more impossible for him to leave home-- but the old woman denied saying anything at all. It was infuriating. Mary did not want to inflict the same treatment upon Miss Tanner... even if it meant breaching a delicate topic.

Mary explained how she had read the account of Mr. Warring's death in the newspaper. "However, no doubt you know my family is Loyalist, and I ... I share those views," she added uncertainly, like she was walking on thawing ice. She inspected Miss Tanner's face, hoping not to see any disgust in her expression. "But that doesn't void the fact that we are both sensible Christian women, and the loss of a loved one brings great pain, regardless of which side we find ourselves on."

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy's original confusion faded as she listened to Mary Ashwell explain her motivation for referencing Samuel's death. She was well aware that most of Trenton thought Mr. Ashwell to be a cracked pot; in fact, she'd had to scold her sisters from repeating some gossip they'd heard from their friends about Mr. Ashwell. Gossip was a nasty thing, Betsy thought, but even nastier was completely untrue gossip. It was almost frightening, really, how much she could relate to Mr. Ashwell. In a small corner of Betsy's mind, she realized how very nearly she came to being the hermit Mr. Ashwell was rumored to be.

She wondered idly if Mary missed her mother, but she dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it entered her mind. Of course not, Betsy reasoned. Miss Ashwell was a mere infant at the time of her mother's passing, unlike Betsy, who remembered the pain of her mother's death quite clearly. The last twelve years had dulled it, of course, but the sense of loss and of being lost had lingered. It was only when she found Samuel that Betsy had finally begun to believe that everything in her life had happened for a reason. After all, if Mrs. Tanner had still be alive, odds were that Betsy would not have been mending Samuel's sister's gown and would therefore have never met him. Now that he was gone, however, Betsy had once again begun to wonder what the point had been in meeting, loving, and losing him.

When Mary finished speaking, Betsy nodded. "I quite agree with you, Miss Ashwell, and I thank you again for your sympathy, this time with no reservations." Offering her a true smile, she motioned to the large number of eggs that had accumulated in Mary's basket. "Unless I am mistaken, your household numbers only three. Might I ask why so many eggs?"

[Mary Ashwell]

A tense nerve in Mary's neck eased when no Maxwells rushed over to lecture her after overhearing her admission to being a Tory, and Miss Tanner did not give her a look of revolt. It wasn't the differing point of view that frayed her nerves -- Mary could see both, and still found herself indifferent -- but rather the time spent and wasted in the discussion. It was like watching water being poured into a bottomless barrel. A Loyalist family meant a Loyalist daughter, and that's what she declared herself to be.

And thank heaven -- Miss Tanner did not appear too distraught by Mary's mentioning of Mr Warring-- she even provided Mary a smile. Nevertheless, the change of subject back to eggs was most welcome.

"Normally, that would be correct," Mary said, her voice brightening, a lively smile of her own growing on her lips. "But my father surprised me by announcing we are to hold a welcoming party for the new family in Trenton-- I believe their name is Buckingham. We're hoping for quite the turnout. I'm not sure how many cakes Cook is planning--" Mary laughed "-- but I offered to find the three dozen eggs she asked for this morning."

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy seemed unaware of any tension in Miss Ashwell. Perhaps it was her family's economic situation that allowed Betsy to patronize shops owned by Tories without fear of being maltreated. Most Tory families didn't pay too much attention to the Tanners, as they knew that when it came down to it, the Tanner family would do what it had to do survive. The family's tenuous connections to the Patriotic cause also provided them a safe haven in shops run by Patriot families, the Mercantile included. Though some of the Maxwell boys liked to tease her about working for the Redcoats, they understood she had to keep food on her family's table.

Moreover, not that anybody knew, but Betsy was not a virulent Patriot anyway. Nobody knew of her involvement as a spy, but even if they did, they would still be surprised of her motivations. She didn't particularly care about freedom, democracy, and representation in Parliament. She just wanted to see the people who allowed Samuel's death to mean nothing to pay for their crimes.

Now, however, Betsy was not filled with a desire for vengeance. Curiosity, and even surprise, was the emotion that filled Betsy now. The Buckinghams were attending a party? While they were out would be the perfect time to explore the household. Mr. Buckingham was quite clear that no one, not even the housekeeper, was to go into his study. Betsy had always assumed that he was keeping documents that were of the utmost secrecy. Perhaps while the family was out at the party, she could 'remember' something (though she didn't yet know what) that she needed to fetch from the Buckingham household...something to ponder at a later date, Betsy decided, tucking the thought into a corner of her mind.

From her speech, Betsy concluded that Miss Ashwell was unaware of her position in the household. Because it was not a particular secret, Betsy saw no harm in sharing that fact with Miss Ashwell. "The Buckinghams? Lately of England? I've recently gained employment for that family, as a maid for Mrs. Buckingham, and the daughter of the house. I'm actually buying these eggs for them myself!" She laughed lightly as she motioned to her basket. "It seems that they will have an abundance of foodstuffs created with eggs."

[Mary Ashwell]

Because of the death of Miss Tanner's fiance at British hands, Mary had assumed that she might perhaps be a uncontrollable, frenzied patriot, like the kind who dumped tea into the Boston Harbor. That was only one unusual, almost comical story Mary's brother had recounted to her. She had simply shaken her head at the time: why go to such extremes and waste all that perfectly good tea just to make a statement?

But the girl in front of her appeared more rational than that. Some were so passionate about their political beliefs, and others, like Mary herself, knew that whichever way the wind blew, there was still shopping and caring for a household to be done.

She breathed a sigh without realizing. Some passionate Patriots could very well include her Maxwell boy, or at least his family. How could she ever expect to broach that subject with her father? The second eldest Maxwell had relaxed in his convictions, like tall grass easing back to its natural position-- but not fully-- after a harsh wind. But Mary knew that family ties were the strongest, and she wondered who was to compromise: she or he.

But, she wasn't about to let herself get distracted again. Mary smiled upon discovering that Miss Tanner was employed by the Buckinghams. "At least they won't be in want of them," she laughed, putting another egg into her basket. "I imagine it's difficult for them to reorient themselves to a new country. Not to mention they must have left behind so much. Cook is anxious to use some recipes she hasn't tasted since leaving England herself."

[Betsy Tanner]

Betsy's face shifted into a whisp of a smile once again. "I can not imagine leaving all that I knew and moving to an entirely new continent, even if I was told I must." She knew that the Buckinghams didn't exactly have a choice in relocating, given Mr. Buckingham's military orders, but she had to think that it must have been frightening for Mrs. Buckingham and the daughter of the house. Though Betsy and her employers were not by any means friendly and their relationship was largely limited to their interactions inside the Buckingham house, she would expect that it would be rather difficult to set up an entirely new household, especially when one knew no one and vice versa.

Betsy reached up to scratch at an itch over her eyebrow before her hand drifted over to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. Her hair, curly as always, was tied back into a serviceable ponytail with a thick velvet ribbon knotted into a bow. Her ribbons were one of the few luxurious she allowed herself, reasoning that they were the only thing that kept her hair looking halfway decent. Which reminded her...her ribbon was looking a bit worn these days and she'd meant to look at the Maxwell's selection before she left. The small pouch of personal coins she kept separate from the coins the cook had given her weighed lightly on her hip. There was rarely much in there, but she thought she would have enough to buy a new one today. After all, she had a paying job now and she doubted her family would begrudge her a new hair ribbon.

"Have you any particular ideas what will be served? That was I can advise the Buckingham's cook not to prepare the same meal," Betsy explained, her eyes darting to the cut ribbon display on the counter before returning to Miss Ashwell's face.

[Mary Ashwell]

"Cook and I have not entirely decided the dinner menu as of yet," Mary mused, with a tilt of her head. Time-tested staples along with a few new exotic dishes she had read about in a cookbook floated to her mind. She imagined the table setting and the eager faces of the guests as the Ashwells' maid served each dish. "Maybe a smoked ham, or veal chop? Certainly cake, salad, and white soup. And fruits or iced cream for dessert...?"

Although her words weren't an outright question, Mary's eyes searched Miss Tanner's, curious if the other woman would have any comment on the proposed foods. So much had yet to be planned. Mary wasn't daunted by the task, but if one little thing was to go awry-- a vegetable unattainable, or too much spice used in a dish... no, she would worry about that when-- if it happened. And who knew? If Cook slipped and put too much nutmeg in with the turnips, it could become a wildly popular dish!

Mary caught Miss Tanner's glance to the ribbon display-- at least she thought that's what the other was peeking at-- and felt a small smile come forth. "I was admiring the ribbons the last time I was here, as well. They're lovely, are they not?"

A few steps brought Mary swiftly to the counter. It had been quite some time since she had a new robe made up and all the trimmings to go with it. Perhaps for the party, if she asked Father... she tucked that idea away for later, and indulged in the ribbons for a brief moment. "The purple one is quite divine."

[Betsy Tanner]

[OOC: Nutmeg and turnips?! EW! lol]

Betsy turned, following Mary to the counter. The basket of eggs brushed against her muslin dress, under which lay several more layers of crinoline and petticoats. She knew the latest fashions called for wide paniers, but those were luxuries the Tanner girls simply couldn't afford.

Drawing up next to Miss Ashwell, Betsy's eyes were drawn down to the ribbon indicated by the other girl. The purple ribbon was a lovely silk with an intricate embroidered floral patter. "It is lovely, yes," Betsy agreed, rubbing her fingers against the fabric, savoring the feel of silk against her skin. "Unfortunately, I don't think I have any gowns that would suit such a color." Betsy let her hand fall away and motioned to a simpler, and far less expensive, brown cotton ribbon. "I could certainly get a lot of use out of this one. In fact..." She pulled the ribbon from the rack and set it amongst the eggs. Betsy offered a smile to Miss Ashwell before turning to set her items on the counter to be totaled up.

"And as for your menu, I think smoked ham would be a welcomed choice. As I recall, the Buckinghams' cook mentioned that Mr. Buckingham very much enjoyed the ham she prepared two Saturdays ago. And I believe Miss Buckingham prefers vanilla cake to chocolate, if I might be so bold as to make such a recommendation." She smiled again as she waited for the Maxwell behind the counter to return with her bill.