kid gloves and absolutely would not allow her royal blue taffeta to become water-spotted.
James took Anna's hand. "Do your best work," he said. "Show Washington City what Peale quality is, and our workshop will be more prosperous than ever." He squinted, his smile was strained.
"And you, Sally, study hard. Remember, I need a good steady hand to work beside me."
"We will do you proud, Papa," Anna said. Sarah hugged her father.
Charles drove swiftly down the road toward the harbor where they were to board the steamship heading for New Castle. When they arrived at the dock, Rubens was there waiting to pick up the rig and to add one more package for Rembrandt's museum.
Rubens and Charles took charge of unpacking the rig and having their baggage stored on board. Standing idly by, Sarah looked up then and saw Benjamin Blakely rushing toward them. He was something to watch, his long legs gliding gracefully over the cobbles, his rusty colored hair clapping at his forehead, his blue eyes fixed straight ahead. Sarah smiled.
"Hello, Sarah. Morning, everyone." He fumbled with a package, pushed it toward Sarah and smiled. "Something for your trip."
His face, though not quite handsome, was rosy from his run, giving him a look of vitality. Sarah took the box. "Thank you, Ben. What is it?"
"Nothing much. Sweets and cakes. I was hoping...well, I'll be seeing you when you get back, won't I?"
"Sweets and cakes," Sarah exclaimed as she looked at Ben, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Isn't that nice, Anna?"
"Very." "Thank you, Ben." "Hope you enjoy it," he said. "I hope…well, that you have a nice journey."
Sarah wondered why he looked at her in that worried way. She was pleased that he remembered this was the day she was leaving; pleased, he cared enough to bring cakes and sweets. She wanted to touch his hand, but that wouldn't do so she smiled at him before she went on board, turned as she stepped on deck and smiled again.
The morning was calm but foggy. Haze obscured people standing on the quay. Birds squawked overhead, but were hidden in the fog. Sarah and Anna stood at the rail and waved. Sarah could barely make out Ben's pale silhouette as he leaned on a post, probably looking up at the deck with his curious smile.
Fog horns blew and the boat moved. Sarah watched Ben's shadowy form until it disappeared completely into the fog. Anna pulled her below deck to the seat beside Uncle Charles and Aunt Hannah. She opened the box Ben had brought, thinking that his face had that look Jane Hayes's men sometimes had. Sarah smiled, took a sweet, tasted it and savored it.
As soon as they had settled in, Charles excused himself to go off to check the baggage, which he thought ought to be tied together in some way so that nothing would be forgotten. Charles was too restless to sit idle for very long. His energy prodded him and when he applied it to a problem, his inventive mind would produce some solution. His younger children, Betsy, Titian, and Franklin, thought he was much too inventive. Sarah didn't agree. Why should anyone be embarrassed by experiments that didn't work, when so much of what he did worked wonderfully?
Sarah wished she could be like her uncle. She didn't want to stay in Philadelphia her whole life, painting backgrounds or ruffles and lace on her father's commissions. She wanted to travel like this and see America. It was such an achingly beautiful country. Her soul had hungered for the changing landscape, rushing rivers and vast blue sky. She suddenly felt how confining the city streets and her father's workshop had been.
Shortly after noon a banquet was served in the ship's dining room. Sarah filled her plate with smoked oysters, country ham, vegetables swimming in a lovely cheese sauce, and fragrant mincemeat pie. Wine was offered, but Charles refused. "Water is the best for health. There is no danger of overdoing when drinking water."
The afternoon and evening passed uneventfully. Sarah slipped off her shoes as they had begun to feel uncomfortable, put a pillow behind her head and dozed. In a few minutes she was wide awake and restless. She decided to put on her shoes and freshen up so she would be presentable when they docked in Baltimore. When she pushed her foot down into the shoe, sharp pain shot upward. Her right foot had swollen so much it was impossible to put on her shoe. She hobbled about, aghast at the thickness of her ankle.
"Gout," Charles announced. He ordered her to drink quantities of weak tea and to massage her foot with a towel dipped in a foul-smelling solution. 'You ate greedily," Charles said. "You had better read my pamphlet on preserving health. You must learn restraint and moderation. If you don't, your gout will flare up again and again. Look at how Raphaelle suffers."
Sarah bit her lip, and rushed to her cousin's defense. "Raphaelle told me once he tried very hard to practice moderation, but couldn't prevent himself from drinking liquor, even when he knew it would end badly."
Charles looked nakedly into Sarah's eyes. "Why can't he prevent himself from it? He had so much promise, such a tender boy, always trying to please me. But in this, he doesn't try hard enough." His jaw clenched. "You had better discipline yourself, young lady." His voice was as harsh as she had ever heard it.
"Thank you, Uncle. I surely will. One thing I don't care much for is gout." She wiggled her toes and Charles laughed.
The steamship arrived at the harbor in Baltimore in the dark hours of morning. Charles thought it best to stay on board until the sun rose. “It won't be long," Anna said. And for once Sarah had no desire to argue. The swelling in her foot was going down, but it was still so painful she would not have been able to keep up with the rest of them.
The talk was all of Rembrandt now and of his museum. Uncle Charles could not hide his eagerness to see it. "I begged him not to build the museum in Baltimore," Charles said. "But if my wishes were ignored, I cannot complain. Rembrandt has spared nothing to make it the city's pride. Maybe he was right. How could something as worthy as a museum hurt Angelica?"
Hannah's face filled with concern when Charles mentioned Angelica’s name. Hannah was a quiet woman, but alert to the struggles going on in her husband's mind.
“Baltimore is a big enough place for both Peales and Robinsons," Anna said."Not necessarily," Charles said. "Lord knows I've tried every kindness I can think of, but Alexander's still set against us. I'm afraid Rembrandt's presence in Baltimore can only harden him."
"Be that as it may," Hannah said. "You will enjoy seeing Angelica and her children. A good portrait of them will give happiness for a long time after." Hannah's simple Quaker goodness seemed to calm Charles.
At daybreak Charles hired a barrow man to carry their baggage to Rembrandt's house. "You will be best waiting right here. After I've awakened the family, I'll come back with Rembrandt and his carriage."
Shortly after nine o'clock Charles returned with Rembrandt. Sarah was struck with how much Rembrandt resembled his father—in the way they walked, the way they held their heads. Rembrandt, though younger, moved slowly and exuded an almost feminine air of gentility. After hearty embraces, they all climbed into the carriage and headed to Rembrandt's museum.
The carriage drew to a halt on Holliday Street. Sarah gazed at the tall brick museum building with many windows facing the street, and four stately pillars flanking the front door. A flag hung from a long pole over the entrance.
"To think," Anna said, "this is the only building in America designed to be a museum. It has dignity, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Charles agreed. "The State House has served well as a muse um in Philadelphia, but this is better.
