House of Lucy Chapter 3

The smell of rat-shit hit my lungs first, and I coughed as I blinked my eyes awake. The snoring man was gone, and I got up to go and greet the day.
The sun was shining, and it was already almost noon. My head hurt. I was not used to such heavy drinking.
I saw men carrying chopped wood from a chopping site to a gathering pile out near the forest clearing, which was next to a river, and looked beautiful. The land sloped downward around where the men were chopping wood, and overlooked the ocean. I walked down and searched for Solomon Reed, who was overseeing the wood gathering.
"Hail! Mr. Solomon Reed, was it?"
He turned to look at me.
"Aye Solomon would do just fine," he reached to shake my hand. "But no mister. I ain't landed like you," he smiled.
I reached out, and shook his hand, his owl-like eyes betraying an analytical disposition.
"What can I do for you," he asked.
"Well, Solomon, I would like to know how much it would cost to hire some of these men."
"Well, whatever for?"
"As it happens, I have with me the plans for a house I would like to build here in New Hanover."
"I'd have to take a look at it, see what we need. Who drew them?"
"I did."
His eyes widened. "You did? I thought you was a lord..."
"I am," I explained, as I produced a small pendant on a chain from underneath my shirt.
"And I am also a mason. I began studying architecture at my family's estate, and later at the masonic lodge in England. I assure you, I have the necessary skill in designing a building blueprint, I simply require the necessary manpower, if perhaps we could come to some arrangement..."
Solomon handled the emblem gently in his hand, before letting it fall back down to my chest, where I tucked it away once more. He shook his head in what I thought to be amazement. "Yeah, I know about the Order. Actually, I tried to join 'em once. Didn't think a mason would end up here, let alone a landed one. Now about your uh, inquiry," he continued, scratching his chin. "Now a'course, these men don't work for free. Why don't we step into my workshop over here, see if we can work somethin' out..."
Solomon's workshop was thick with dust and lit by candles, which he arranged so that we could see better. We talked about wages, materials, sizes and tools, logistics. I showed him my plans. He stared at them and held his chin, frowning. He stayed like that for a long time.
"Right," he said. He eyed the parchment pensively. "I can talk to the men and put together the necessary materials. We'll need a portion of the costs up-front, and then the rest after we're done. You sure you can afford this?"
"Without a doubt. We'll pick out a plot of land, and I can pay you a portion of the up-front cost today, I believe it will be enough to cover a portion of the foundation and initial materials. I will send a letter to my father in England, and your men will begin working tomorrow morning."
We shook on it.
We spent the rest of the day searching around the perimeter of the town's borders. A few plots stuck out to me, but nothing spoke, and a group of children containing one of Solomon's ran up to him, and Solomon told them that, "papa was working," and to run along to mama and go wash up for supper.
By nightfall I realized that we were circling the same plot of land. Something occurred to me. I shifted to look at it from a different direction. Yes. Yes, this was it. The trees pulsed slightly, the grasshoppers jumped gracefully, the chirping of the crickets was even subdued, as if they found it more restful here. And the whole world seemed to hum in the backdrop. I nearly thought I was dreaming at first. I could see it. The house. My creation, standing tall between the trees, towering over the shrubs and casting faint, nighttime shadows over the grass below. This was the place. Solomon eyed me, auspiciously. "You'll have to procure a deed of sale first, you know."
"Yes, of course. No matter. This is the place."
The plot sat on a hill just overlooking the river and the lumber site. The men wouldn't even have to carry the supplies far. It was perfect.
On our walk back to the town square, Solomon stopped me for a moment.
"You know, Mr. Lucy what with you bein' a member of the Order," his voice trailed off, and he scratched his chin again.
"You should really consider talkin' to minister Gable. He's uh...a well-read man, such as you." Solomon smiled at me sheepishly.
"I will seek him out, post-haste! First, I must go back to my quarters and pen a letter to my father!"
The sun was already setting. We made our way back into town and Solomon bid me a good night.
Once I had arrived back at my room above the public house, which I found fortunately empty, I began penning a letter to my father. I wrote that I had arrived in Virginia, that I had already struck a deal with a local craftsman, and that all the necessary plans were in place, and that I would simply require a small sum from him, in order to set the operation underway. I wrote that I hoped that him and mother were well, and sealed the envelope, and went out to deliver it to the post office. By the time I returned to my quarters, the man I shared a room with was in the other bed again, snoring soundly.
By daylight, I woke up and decided to peruse some of the local shops. I asked a resident where the local book-keep was, and he pointed in a vague direction. Some of the buildings in Hanover Court were not connected to a road, and it was surprisingly easy to get lost. And that was how I met her.