Master's Match

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  Nash dismissed the maid and offered Becca a small plate of finger sandwiches, the kind Naomi said her friend May had to prepare for her mistress. Dizzy in the realization that she occupied such a position, Becca took one that looked pleasing while Nash took two.

  “My father especially would have loved your spirit of adventure,” he noted. “Who else would knock on doors until she found the lowest form of work? And if you agree to marry me, that will be an adventure indeed.”

  Holding her sandwich, she tried to speak in the manner of a highborn woman. “Indeed.”

  “So do you have an answer for me?”

  She thought they might sit and talk a bit first, but she could see by the way his leg moved up and down with nervous energy that Nash was as anxious as she. The moment she’d been awaiting had arrived. Now that it had, she felt her heart beat all the way up to her throat. Her voice didn’t want to cooperate, but she willed herself to speak from the depths of her soul. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I do. I accept your proposal.” She took in a breath, not believing the words as they fell from her lips. Was she really herself—Becca Hanham, impoverished servant girl—or had she stepped into someone else’s life? At the moment she didn’t care, as long as she could hold on to the dream. Never had she been so happy—and so scared—at once.

  Nash’s eyes shone like her brother Samuel’s when the big kids let him in on their games. “That is the news I wanted to hear.” He took her hand in his and brushed his lips just above her knuckles. “I am honored by your acceptance.”

  Such words left her feeling light-headed and unable to say anything gracious. Or anything at all, really. How could someone of such stature be honored by her acceptance?

  If he noticed her puny state, he hid it well. “This calls for a celebration.” He summoned Harrod, who appeared in an instant. “Send Jack to the Providence Arcade for lobster.”

  Harrod sent Nash a knowing look that Becca didn’t quite understand. “Yes, sir. If I can find him.”

  Nash’s lips tightened. “See that you do. Miss Hanham deserves a fine meal, the first she will partake as my fiancée.”

  Heart still beating beyond measure, but with happiness rather than anxiety, she felt her own eyes sparkle. “I don’t care if we have boiled water. I’m just happy.”

  “As am I. But of course, I want to make sure I have your father’s blessing.”

  She tried not to laugh. “Father’s blessin’? He’d bless a frog if he’d take me outta the house. He’s tired o’ feedin’ me. Ya know that’s why I took that job as a scullery maid to start with.”

  The fact she had to broach the subject of her father brought his admonitions to mind, spoiling her moment. Nash claimed happiness, but did their impending wedding please him, or just the chance to rid himself of Miss Caldwell?

  When she looked back into Nash’s face, she saw pity. No matter what her feelings for her father, she saw no good in turning Nash against him. “Oh, Father ain’t so bad. With a brood to feed, he’s gotta think about what’s best fer ever’body. Accordin’ to age, I’m next in line to marry. And there’s a new baby on the way sometime this summer.”

  “A happy event indeed,” Nash observed. “Even though I can’t pretend to understand what it must be like to live with so many brothers and sisters, I can speculate on the difficulties your father must face. Under normal circumstances, I would have approached him before even asking you to marry me. However these are not the usual circumstances. I would feel more assured if I could confirm from him that he is agreeable to my request for your hand. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course.” She more than understood. His concern made her feel special.

  Nash eyed a small black marble statue of a pyramid on an occasional table. “But let’s talk about other things while we wait for dinner to be prepared. Would you be interested in learning a bit about the trinkets I have on display in this room? Each one holds meaning for me.”

  Becca agreed without hesitation. Time moved at a rapid clip as he pointed out objets d’art and souvenirs, talking about worlds near and far, all unknown to Becca. At first she felt nervous, realizing she had no idea about the exotic places he described. She relaxed after she could see that Nash enjoyed sharing his interests with her, even though she often felt some of her questions would sound silly to sophisticated ears. She appreciated his patience and reveled in his joy as they talked.

  As the room grew dark from twilight’s falling, the maid, without interrupting them, lit candles so they could see. Becca wished time would never move forward, but soon they were called to dinner. Panic and anticipation visited her when she realized that for the first time she’d be taking her meal in a real dining room, not an overcrowded area at home with too many people and too few chairs.

  When they entered, they found a long table set with fine linens and dinnerware. She had never dined on a surface covered with cloth of any description. With so many people in her house, the most practical solution was for her sister to wipe bare wood with a wet rag after each meal. She doubted Father would have let Mother indulge in the purchase of linens even if they’d had the money. And cloth napkins! The men in her house, regardless of the fact the older ones knew better, were fond of wiping their mouths on their shirtsleeves. The women tried not to smear their faces so they wouldn’t need napkins.

  The silver looked heavy and patterned with so many flowers that Becca imagined each utensil held enough to populate a garden. Crystal glasses appeared delicate. She hoped she wouldn’t break hers before the night ended. She reached for a carved chair, but Nash took it by the other side and pulled it out, nodding for her to take a seat. No man had ever pulled a seat out for her. The attention felt exciting but strange.

  Nash said a blessing over the meal, a pleasant start that made her feel more comfortable with him. His words sounded so natural she could discern he wasn’t putting on a show for her, a fact that relieved her. Then, following his example, she set her napkin in her lap and realized her dress was nowhere near fine enough. She needed clothing—and fast. But how could she think of a new wardrobe for herself when her family couldn’t even pay for enough food? She prayed her sparse wardrobe wouldn’t cause Nash embarrassment.

  The hook-nosed maid Becca once thought of befriending had become her servant, presenting her with a bowl of soup. The appetizer, floating in a rose-embellished bowl, proved rich and creamy. She felt full after she ate it and out of habit pushed back her chair to take the dish into the kitchen until the maid rushed over to retrieve it. She looked fearful of being reprimanded, giving Nash a sheepish look. But his benign expression told them all that no chastisement was forthcoming.

  Being waited on made Becca feel odd and undeserving. At least the maid didn’t make eye contact, in effect pretending she’d never seen Becca in the scullery. She would have to restrain herself so she could sit through a meal without rising to help.

  Considerate as usual, Nash asked Becca about her brothers and sisters. The conversation lasted throughout the dinner, well past the promised lobster.

  “How did you like your meal?” Nash asked after a dessert of cake drizzled with fig icing.

  “Wonderful. I’ve never been so full. And I’ve never seen so much in the way of cream and butter in my life.”

  Nash chuckled. “Cook did her best to please, as you can see. Do you wish to eat meals this rich every night?”

  The lavish meal had indeed been a treat, but she wasn’t accustomed to so much food, and it felt heavy on her stomach. How could she tell him the truth without seeming ungrateful? She answered without looking up. “Uh, well. . .it was delicious, but I ain’t sure I could.”

  “Good. I don’t want to overindulge at every meal, either. We can eat more simply and save an abundance of cream and butter for holidays. I happen to like johnnycakes, for one.” He smiled.

  “Johnnycakes!” Becca restrained herself from jumping up and down like a toddler. The corn cakes, popular in Rhode Island, were a special treat at her house. “They�
��re my favorite, too.”

  Nash chuckled. “I think you and I will get along just fine. Now, if you will, I’d like to escort you to the parlor for coffee. It’s a little luxury I enjoy.”

  “Of course.” She found the custom strange, but pleasurable, since it gave her more time with Nash. The next hour flew by for Becca as the clock chimed on the quarter hour.

  “It’s getting late, and I hate to see the evening end,” Nash said as they lingered over the last drops. “I’ll have Jack take you home.”

  “Home? But I thought I’d stay here with you.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t considered you might think that.” His eyes filled with regret. “If you were still my scullery maid, such an arrangement would be fine and good. But now that we plan to wed, I’m afraid tongues will wag if we share the same residence before our wedding day, the presence of servants notwithstanding.”

  “You didn’t seem to care much about waggin’ tongues when you talked about our match.” Her disappointment made her tone seem more argumentative than she liked.

  “I realize I might seem contradictory. Such is not my intent. It is important to me to protect your reputation.” He turned even more serious. “I won’t deceive you, Becca. Because we are worlds apart in rank, even with both of us conducting ourselves with the utmost propriety, there will be talk. You are taking a courageous step to agree to marry me, and I appreciate you for it. I hope you’re not too afraid.”

  “No. Not with you beside me.”

  “Good. Go home now, and sleep well tonight. I’ll send Jack over to collect you in the morning, and we shall continue our adventure.”

  ❧

  Later that night after she had shared the remaining food from the Abercrombie kitchen with her astonished family and told them about the evening, Becca tossed and turned on the mattress stuffed with straw. Fashioned for one, she nevertheless had to share it with her sister. Every once in a while Sissy, slumbering beside her, would tap her to discourage so much movement, but sleeping proved difficult as she relived the evening’s events in her mind. Nash’s advice to sleep well seemed impossible to follow. She couldn’t remember the last night she went to bed with a satisfied belly. Conscious that the younger children should have enough, the older siblings and Mother had always eaten last, dividing between them the portions left after the youngsters had partaken. Never had she eaten until she couldn’t eat more. Filled with food far richer and in greater quantity than she was accustomed, she could hardly breathe. She reminded herself that she couldn’t eat as much in the future. But how could she waste a drop of such fine food? To do so seemed sinful. Maybe she could ask Cook to send out small portions for her.

  Excitement didn’t help. She could only think of her new life. Being overworked and the pressure Father put on her to provide money kept her from being completely happy all her life, but poverty never worried her. She had become accustomed to a meager diet and her mother’s embarrassment of being unable to pay bills on occasion. Winter meant shivering in rags against the cold, even indoors. But in this neighborhood, most families lived the same—maybe a bit better off on occasion, but often worse. Not until Becca peeked into the homes of Providence’s well-to-do did she see the gap for herself.

  Nash came with his money, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be comfortable in riches. Yet if he loved her as much as she now believed she could love him—indeed, already she had started growing fond of the kind and dashing gentleman—she’d do her best.

  The next morning she rose, still tired but too excited about going back to Nash’s to care. Donning her same dress, she hoped he wouldn’t mind seeing her in it yet again. Surely the women with whom he grew up owned many ensembles. One of their everyday dresses must look better than her best frock. She tried not to think about it because there was nothing to be done.

  She left the bedroom and found her father and brothers waiting for breakfast. Mother and Naomi scurried to prepare them a modest meal.

  “What are ya doin’ here among us?” Father asked as soon as he spotted her. “I thought ye’d moved in with that fancy feller o’ your’n.” His voice grew menacing. “Ya didn’t spoil things, did ya?”

  “Oh no, Father. It’s only proper fer me to come home ever’ night now that I ain’t a servant.”

  Father nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Ye’re right.”

  “We had a good evenin’,” Becca said. “We talked and even had coffee after dinner.”

  “That’s why ya couldn’t sleep last night,” Naomi said. “Ya kept me awake.”

  “She kept me awake, too,” Sissy added.

  The other sisters murmured in agreement.

  “I’m sorry.” Becca looked at each of them in apology.

  “What possessed ya to drink coffee at night?” Mother asked. “If we’re lucky enough to have any, I drink it in the mornin’ to stay awake.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll try not to drink it so late anymore. Oh, but I was so excited I don’t think warm milk could have put me to sleep last night.”

  “Ya did have an excitin’ evenin’,” Naomi admitted.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Father grabbed her left hand. “Where’s yer ring? Don’t rich people give rings when they say they’re gonna get married?”

  Becca looked at her bare hand. Father squeezed it so tightly it hurt. “I—I don’t know. He didn’t give me one.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp.

  “Ya better do as I say and start collectin’ those trinkets. This’ll end soon enough.” He nodded in a knowing way.

  Mother changed the subject. “When are ya supposed to go back?”

  “I think he mentioned somethin’ ’bout pickin’ me up today. I guess he’ll send Jack.”

  “Who’s that?” Willie asked.

  “His driver.”

  The sound of horses’ hooves could be heard just outside the door.

  “Mebbe that’s him now.” Becca rushed to the front door and opened it. The Abercrombie carriage was parked outside. “Yea, that’s Jack. I’ll get ready to go now.” She hurried into the bedroom to retrieve her coat and bonnet.

  When she returned to the front room, Becca was shocked to see Nash. “Mr. Abercrombie!” She wanted to embrace him, but with her family watching in shock, suspicion, and awe, she thought better of it.

  Nash, clad in a fashionable morning suit, stood on their doorstep. Though he dressed less ostentatiously than many in his social set, his suit showed him to be a man knowledgeable of the latest style and possessing the ability to afford an expert tailor. Wide-eyed stares from children and adults on the street trying not to look his way told her how out of place he appeared in the neighborhood. Waves of embarrassment swept over Becca, emotions that made her feel ashamed. Shaking off the feeling, she reminded herself that poverty defined her but was no sin. “Won’t you come in?”

  Instead of recoiling, Nash acted with the utmost politeness—as though he were one of them—as she made introductions. To her shock, he even presented each of her siblings a small gift—toys for the younger set and scented toiletries for the older ones. Though he had only spent his pocket change, Becca surmised he had no idea how much the day seemed like Christmas to all of them.

  “I hope I might take this opportunity to speak with you, Mr. Hanham,” he said after pleasantries had been exchanged.

  Greed glinted in his eyes. “Clear out!”

  His family scattered. Even Becca had to leave. She prayed her father wouldn’t say anything to embarrass her.

  Six

  Nash sat across the rough-hewn table from Mr. Hanham. Never had he dreamed that a man wearing tatters and appearing on the verge of drunkenness before the noon hour would be his potential father-in-law. But his fondness for Becca had grown in a short time, and he knew deep love for her could develop without effort. Gossip and ridicule were sure to follow when people discovered her background, but he’d meet the challenge. A loveless marriage would be a worse fate. And with Becca beside him, he fear
ed nothing.

  Mr. Hanham eyed a younger man who seemed to be near in age to Becca. “Stop combin’ yer hair here in the kitchen, Elias. What’s the matter wif ya? Fergot yer manners?”

  Elias’s puzzled expression told Nash that his father didn’t usually reprimand him for grooming in the same area where the family ate.

  “Run along now.” Mr. Hanham’s tone said he meant business.

  Elias nodded. He was the last sibling to exit, so Nash and Mr. Hanham were left in relative privacy. Studying the older man, Nash could see that he must have been handsome not so long ago. Traces of Becca could be seen in his face, aged beyond its years thanks to poverty and hard drink.

  “So.” Mr. Hanham eyed him and took a swig of ale. “I understand ya want ta marry me daughter.”

  “Yes, I would. I beg your pardon for not consulting with you first, Mr. Hanham. I’m afraid my proposal was a bit impromptu.”

  “Imprompt—what?”

  Nash searched for a definition. “Uh, unplanned.”

  “Oh. So how do ya make all yer money?”

  Though the query was appropriate from a future father-in-law, Nash nevertheless tried not to reveal his surprise at the blunt way Mr. Hanham expressed himself—and so early during their interview. He cleared his throat. “I am in charge of the trading company I inherited from my father. My business is stable, and I believe your daughter will have a comfortable life.”

  Mr. Hanham indulged in a fresh drink of ale, looking at Nash over the mug. “So ye’re really goin’ through with it?”

  “That is my honest intention, yes, sir.”

  The older man set the mug on the table. “Not that I blame ya. She’s a mighty pretty thing.” He wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve, prompting Nash to notice a lack of table linens.

  “Yes, she is,” he answered with genuine cheerfulness. “But her spirit inside is what attracted me to her.”