by Deeanne Gist
He hung his hat on a peg. “I’m glad I took them. It’s the first time I’ve seen any animation amongst the group.”
Brushing off her hands, she rose. “That’s good.”
“It’s a start.” He noticed the embers. “You kept the fire going.”
She glanced at the pot hanging over the ashes. “Yes.”
Yes, indeed. The pot was heating. The yard was swept. The cottage was spotless. But the eggs were still in the hen house. “You ready to gather some eggs?”
She studied him for a moment. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
She moistened her lips. “Then I guess I’m ready.”
He gave her an apron to wear, telling her to tuck it up and form a pouch for the eggs. They entered the chicken coop together, neither saying a word. As the chickens rushed toward them, he could see Constance was skittish. He gathered the eggs. She, sticking close, placed them in her apron. Mr. Meanie gave them no notice.
At suppertime, the indentured men were not animated exactly, but certainly more relaxed. Rather than sitting stiffly alone, looking at nothing but the food they consumed, they now lounged about the clearing, some sitting, some leaning on an elbow, but all grouped in clusters of three or more, quietly visiting during their meal. Constance moved amongst them, enjoying the hum of their conversations superimposed over the drone of the forest’s insects.
She’d acted as hostess to many meals, but never had she derived such pleasure from compliments and requests for seconds as she had this evening.
Although gutting the turtles was most disagreeable, she found she actually enjoyed preparing the soup. Never mind that Drew stood at her side, guiding and tutoring her through each step. No, her sense of pleasure came from a task completed from its earliest stages to its last.
“Might I ’ave another serving, Mistress?”
She turned to find an empty bowl extended to her by a set of bony arms. In between those arms were a bony face, a toothy grin, and a head of wild blond hair.
The men had reluctantly introduced themselves to her this morning when she’d given them ash cakes, but she was terrible with names and couldn’t remember any of them. “Certainly, Mr. ...?”
“Pott. Samuel Pott, mum.” He reached up to tip his hat, but of course there was no hat to tip.
She curtsied with a smile and fetched him a second serving.
“Ah, thank you, Mistress. It’s a feast the king ‘imself would be ’appy to ’ave.”
“You’re most welcome, Mr. Pott.”
“Call them by their first names, Constance.”
She glanced over to see Drew issuing this command while taking in more bowls for second servings. So magnanimous was she at the moment, she chose to ignore this bit of rudeness. Still, she must at some point remind him never to correct her in front of the servants. “You’re most welcome, Samuel.”
She looked down to see Samuel had turned as pale as death, and all the indentures stopped in midmotion. Drew might have missed the slight he’d just given her, but the men didn’t and they expected her to retaliate in kind--toward Samuel.
This was only their second day away from the ship, and she knew only too well how they felt. That they were relaxed at all was indeed an impressive recommendation of Drew’s ability with them.
She knelt down so as to be on Samuel’s eye level. “You’ve nothing to fear from me or my husband. If you serve us well, you will be treated well.”
Lowering his eyes, Samuel nodded.
She cocked her head. “You know, I’ve six sisters and three brothers--all of them older than me but one. You remind me somewhat of my oldest brother. He quite enjoys his soups and chowders and has a fine set to his shoulders, very much like you. Therefore, I’ll not be forgetting your name again, Samuel. Please forgive me for doing so this time.”
He’d raised his gaze in the midst of this, and although she hadn’t drawn a smile from him, she hoped she’d restored at least some of the casual mood from before. “Oh, no, mum. There’s nothin’ to forgive, there’s not. But I’m much obliged, I am.“
She nodded and stood. At a rustling in the brush, she turned to see Mary and Sally trudge into the clearing. “Mary! Sally!” Waving, she rushed over to them. “I’m so very glad you’re back. Care you to have some turtle soup?”
Mary shook her head. “No, thank you. Grandma fed the both of us before we took leave, she did. It’s sitting down for a moment I’d like to be doin’ now.”
“Well, let’s go inside and sit, then.” She looked down at Sally. “And what of you? Would you care for some soup?”
“Nellie has a baby!”
“A baby! How very wonderful. And how very wonderful it is to see you.” She extended a hand to Sally, but before the child could grasp it, she caught sight of Drew and ran squealing into his arms.
Propping her on his hip, he joined them. “How’s Nellie?”
“Fine,” Mary answered. “It’s a big lusty boy she’s had.”
“No problems, then?”
“No, sir.”
“What did they name him?” Constance asked.
“They didn’t.”
“They’re waiting for the baptism?”
Mary shook her head. “They’re waiting until he’s three.”
“What?” Constance exclaimed.
“More often than not,” Drew explained, “the children here never see their third birthday. So most people in the settlement distance themselves from the little ones.”
“How dreadful! Surely you didn’t do that to Sally?”
He tightened his lips. “I’ve never been able to distance myself.”
“Well, I should think not.”
He set Sally down. “It’s not something I’m proud of, Constance.” With that, he spun around and returned to the men.
“Of all the ridiculous...” She turned to Mary. “Come. Tell me of your visit.”
CHAPTER TEN
With the conclusion of the meal, Mary oversaw Sally while Drew and Constance headed to the creek with the soiled pots, bowls, and noggins.
Once there, Constance set the bowls down on the bank. A feeling of contentment flowed through her. She’d made it through her wedding night without mishap. She had two dresses that fit her reasonably well. She’d completed several chores throughout the day. And best of all, her wager of last evening would bear its first fruit tonight. She didn’t have to clean the dishes.
Propping herself against the birch tree, she regarded Drew from beneath her lashes and barely suppressed a smile. He tore into the dishes as if he wrestled the devil himself, his shoulders flexing, his arms tensing.
His mood had deteriorated by great degrees the closer they’d come to supper’s end. Then he’d said not a word--nor even glanced at her-during the entire walk down here. His stance had been rigid, his jaw tight.
Picking up a pebble, she fingered it for the slightest of moments before trying to skip it across the water. It fell with a dissatisfying plop, causing a chain of circular ripples to break out across the creek.
He paused for a moment before continuing with his task. Drawing up her knees, she wrapped her arms around them. “I was wondering...if a hen and a half laid an egg and a half in a day and a half, how many eggs would seven hens lay in six days?”
He stopped scrubbing the bowl, holding it still beneath the water. Slowly, he looked over at her, blue eyes dusted with dark thick lashes.
She smiled and propped her chin onto her knees.
He offered no smile, no dimples, no response. He simply remained crouched on the bank, staring at her.
“I have more if you’d rather try a different one.”
“You have nine brothers and sisters?” he asked.
She raised her brows. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He turned back to his chore. “How many are still alive?”
“Why, all of them.”
“I thought you were raised by the uncle.”
“I was, along with Margaret, m
y younger sister. But Papa fetched me home, remember?”
“Ah, yes. For the marriage contract that you refused.”
“That’s correct.”
“And all those siblings were there waiting to take you into their bosom.”
She shook her head. “No, they’d already married and left home. But Papa loved to gather them all under his roof as often as he could.”
He stopped working again to look at her. “Tell me of them.”
She looked at the stack of dirty bowls, then the sun lowering in the horizon. Heavens, they would be here all night at this rate.
Pushing herself up, she retrieved a bowl and knelt beside him. “My two eldest sisters were married by the ages of twelve and thirteen. Papa had contracted for my other sisters when they were even younger.”
“I’m sure he thought he was acting in their best interests.”
“Yes, God bless him, he did. Unfortunately, the moral integrity of the groom was immaterial, for wedding into nobility was of utmost importance.”
“Women can’t be choosing their own husbands, Constance. It would be a disaster.”
“Financially, maybe. But I’d rather live simply and be cherished than live luxuriously and be mistreated.”
“Surely it’s not as bad as all that.”
“You haven’t met my sisters’ husbands.”
Their elbows brushed. “Tell me.”
She set the clean bowl down next to an assortment of animal tracks stamped into the shoreline, each one unique, yet all coexisting in order to survive. She picked up another bowl. “Leoma, the eldest, wrote to me of her husband’s unkindness. I saw for myself that Arietta was beaten. Kristina, the most intelligent of us girls, was bound to a drunken lout. Doreen suffered silently with her spouse’s philandering, and Jocelyn, pregnant with her eighth child, was temporarily deserted by her husband.”
“That’s only five sisters.”
“Margaret’s husband stuck her in a musty old country home and hasn’t allowed her out nor any visitors in.” Constance eyed his empty hands. “You’re a bit sluggish with your chores this evening. If you can’t visit and work at the same time, I will tell you no more.”
He raised a brow. “I’ve already washed twice the amount you have. I was simply allowing you time to catch up.”
She picked up a noggin and handed it to him. “You’re too kind.
Prithee, continue with your task.”
He dipped the noggin in the water. “What did your brothers do to the men who abused your sisters?”
Constance harrumphed. “Norval was busy marrying one of the queen’s maids-of-honor and was sent to the continent just after the wedding. Rogan fought an unsuccessful duel over another maid-of-honor, and Foley had made himself so free with the pleasures of town that, consequently, he was unable to consummate his marriage, as all of London learned the next day.”
“The devil, you say.”
“Yes. Not exactly the kind of men to take an undesirable brother-in-law to task. They’d be more likely to befriend him.”
He took the last bowl from her. “How did you manage to make it to the age of nineteen without being forced to marry?”
Scooting away from the bank, she rolled down her sleeves. “I think Uncle Skelly must have refused to send us home, for Papa had to personally come and fetch Margaret and me.”
He stacked the bowl with the others, then picked up his pipe. “How old were you?”
“I was thirteen. Margaret was ten.”
He settled himself against a tree. “What happened?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, Margaret did just as Papa told her. I, however, was not some ten-year-old child easily cowed into submission. Still, Papa moved forward, welcoming the viscount’s son with open arms. The young man had barely set foot in the house before making his address to me.”
Catching a movement on the far side of the creek, she gasped, then pointed at the brown furry creature sporting a black mask across its eyes and black rings on its tail. The bizarre animal dipped his dinner into the water before washing it off with his paws.
Drew watched it as well, not turning back to her until it finished and lumbered out of sight. “The savages call it an aroughcoune.”
“I shall call it a bandit.”
He humphed then took a long pull from his pipe. “So, was this suitor’s address so bad, then?”
She allowed a fleeting smile to cross her lips. “Oh, no. He was quite eloquent in his address and declared an extraordinary passion for me.” She studied her nails. “Unfortunately, my aversion for him was extreme. Three weeks later he deserted the field.” She looked up and they exchanged a quiet smile.
“What happened then?”
“Well, my refusal put Papa in a rather untenable position. My rejection was embarrassing for him but not the least of his worries, for it appeared to others as if he couldn’t make good on his business transactions, thus damaging his credit. Hence, he resolved I would yield...or else.”
Drew’s massive hands cradled his pipe, brushing its stem against his lips. “What did he do?”
She smoothed her skirt. “Well, you are aware, I’m sure, that women have now been granted a veto in matrimonial affairs. The woman must, of course, have weighty grounds for her refusal. Still, a veto is a veto.”
His hand stilled. “Did you have weighty grounds?”
She looked at him askance. “Mr. Fenton said that no wife of his would participate in mathematical pursuits.”
“But surely your father exerted his wishes,” he said, the beginnings of a smile touching his lips.
“Oh, he tried. He certainly tried. First, he cut off my allowance. That was of little consequence, though, for I simply bought whatever I wanted and had it charged to my future husband--whomever that might turn out to be. So then, he engaged the entire family, hoping they would wear down my resistance. All my brothers and sisters, along with my dearest friends, did most diligently entreat me to give in.” She shrugged. “I simply told Papa that no marriage could be consummated without my consent.”
A dimple appeared as one side of his smile grew. “That sounds familiar.”
She gave him a quelling look. “It wasn’t as desperate as Papa made it seem. I still had at least five more years before I’d be considered a full-fledged spinstress.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, Papa, you see, had already passed his seventy-third year, and he felt it imperative that I find a match, even if it meant breaking this one and starting all over. So that’s exactly what he did.”
“Your poor father.”
“Poor father! Your sympathies, kind sir, are quite misplaced. Five weeks later he had a new set of marriage articles.” She stuffed bits of stray hair back into her cap. “It was not the first time Papa had tried to ally himself with Lord Milburn through a marriage contract, and I represented his last chance at securing this coveted connection.”
“Did your father take out the veto clause?”
She bit her lip. “He couldn’t, but he did alter his contract. This time he made sure he would not be penalized financially if I refused the suitor, and he stipulated there would be no cash down until the wedding day.”
Drew stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “And what were your 'weighty grounds’ this time?”
“The man was fifty years my senior.”
“‘Tis not uncommon, that.”
“‘Tis disgusting.”
He chuckled. “That’s all relative, my dear.”
She shrugged. “That was about the time my brothers diverted Papa’s attention. When Norval married the queen’s maid-of-honor, it opened up a whole new London for the family. I quite adored his wife, Elizabeth, but then the war broke out and it split our family as sure as an ax splits a log. Even now one brother fights another.“ Lowering her gaze, she swallowed. ”Anyway, I was left to my own devices for a good while.”
“Thus you found yourself kidnapped and forced to marry an
American.”
She looked out over the waters, now reflecting the deep purples and pinks of the sunset. “It’s been an adventure, that’s for certain.”
“It could cost you your life, yet. Going on that ship without escort was foolhardy in the extreme.”
“I needn’t a lecture,” she said, standing, “from you or anyone else.”
He stood as well, his expression darkening. “Listen well, Constance. Until your father comes, I am responsible for you. Therefore, you will curb your rebellious behavior. One act of foolishness here could result in your death.”
She bristled. “And what would you care? Seems it would make your life a great deal easier if I weren’t around.”
“It would reflect badly of my character if you did something dull-witted.”
His character? She snatched up the bowls. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”
She started to leave. He grabbed her arm. “Do not ever walk away from me in the midst of a discussion, Constance.”
They stood nose to nose, cocooned in the aroma of his tobacco. She hugged the bowls to her. “And what will you do?”
“Try me.”
A burning devil take him. “Why are you so angry all of a sudden? Is it because you’ve just realized I am who I say I am?”
“You’ve had an entire ship’s voyage to concoct whatever stories you wished.”
“I couldn’t possibly have made all that up and you know it. That’s the whole reason you questioned me.”
He stood quietly, his eyes searching hers. At long last, he spoke. “The fact of the matter is, I think I do believe you. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Do you, Drew? Do you really believe me?”
He loosened his hold on her arm and rubbed it slightly where he’d squeezed it. “Yes, Constance, I do. If I didn’t I think, God help me, I’d have already bedded you.”
Her breath caught. The light caress on her arm captured her full attention. She scrambled for something to say. “And my title?”
Releasing her, he tapped her chin and picked up the other dishes. “You are Mistress Drew O’Connor until your father arrives and I can give you into his safekeeping.”
