by Smith, Skye
"Bye bye then," she said and walked passed him. She couldn't resist dragging her hand across the front of his pants as she passed him. "Tell your sister that I will get even with her if it is the last thing I ever do."
"Let me get even with her. I owe you that much."
"It's not the same."
"I can get even right away. I can tell father about seeing her last week alone in the barn with a boy."
"It's up to you. Goodbye." She marched across the grass and around the corner of the church to where Jon was still chatting away to the boys. "Take me home," she said and went to the cart without looking at the faces of any of the boys. It had crossed her mind that the only reason they were keeping Jon busy was because they knew of Hannah's plans.
* * * * *
Britta jumped down from the cart and walked right by Beth without even smiling. She went directly upstairs without a word.
"What is the matter with her?" asked Beth.
"Church has that effect on her," replied Jon.
"More likely that those holier-than-thou women are to blame."
Britta did not knock on Lydia's door because she was likely sleeping. There was no one there. One of the older girls was sitting on Britta's bed playing with Robby.
"Where is mistress?" Britta asked.
"Gone."
"Gone where?"
"She wouldn't tell me cause she didn't want me to tell you."
"What? What does that mean?" queried Britta to herself, but the child heard.
"She went to Master Red's house. I saw her from the window."
Britta put her hand to her mouth and breathed slowly while the thought. Sunday. Everyone at church. Red in New York. Robert in Boston.
"Stay here with Robby. If you get lonely, call one of your friends to help but don't take Robby downstairs," Britta said. She danced back through the bedroom and down the stairs two at a time. Beth looked up at her. "Come with me. There could be trouble."
Beth grabbed a splitting axe from one of the firewood boys and followed Britta around the house and along the path to the footbridge that crossed the river. She caught up on the bridge. "What's up, missy?"
"Red is in New York, it is church day, and Lydia just left the baby to run over to Red's house. She must have seen something from her window. She hasn't come back yet."
"I wished you'd told me this before. I would have brought the bird gun."
They reached Red's porch. His house was just a big farm house, about a third of the size of Robert's. The land had been sold to Robert's father years ago by the original farm family, so now it was just a house with some land about it. Enough land to graze the horses but little more.
The front door was unlocked and Britta just walked straight in, but quietly. Beth stopped beside her and the just listened. There were noises from up the stairs. They walked quietly up them. That meant slowly because boards were prone to squeak under Beth's weight. They followed the sound of the noises to an open doorway and walked in.
Lydia was lying on the bed wearing nothing but a silk scarf, and Red had his face buried between her legs. She saw them come in and pulled at Red's head so that he would look up. He followed her gaze around towards the doorway.
Britta ran over to Lydia, grabbed her by the arms and started to pull her off the bed. "Are you insane? Think of the risks. He will kill Red. He said as much."
"What do you want me to do missy?" asked Beth. Red rolled off the bed and made a lunge for Britta. Beth swung her heavy hips towards him. He found himself back on the bed wondering how he got there.
Beth bent, put her shoulder into Lydia's tummy and bent her over and lifted. Britta grabbed Lydia's clothing and followed Beth and her heavy load out of the room and down the stairs. Red ran to catch up to them. He didn't bother covering himself. That was a mistake because Beth just kept on going towards the footbridge, and he was forced to double back to get clothes.
Lydia screamed threats at Beth all the way back to the mansion. Beth only answered her once, with, "While you're down there, kiss my ass."
Britta was now carrying the axe. She stopped in the middle of the footbridge and waited for Red. She had thought that he was right behind them. She was wrong. She had to wait. "Go home." she yelled when he finally came into sight.
"Let me explain."
"Explain it to Robert. I'm not interested. Don't try to cross the bridge. I've got an axe."
"You won't hurt me for loving her. Surely not for that."
"Explain it to Robert when he gets home."
"She came to see me."
"How could she? You are in New York."
"The rollover of my loan took minutes," he explained. "I caught the same ship back. So I am early back. So she welcomed me back. What of it?"
"She was hungry," Britta said. "She is like an opium addict. She hungers for the goddess glow and all the attention. Go home. Leave her alone." She could see that he would not, so she backed up until she could step off the footbridge and then she picked up a handful of stones. When he started to come across she threw them at him. He backed away, and she ran for the house.
As Britta came around the corner of the big house she noticed a horse tied to the balustrade of the porch. It had not been there before. A boy was untying it to lead it to the stable to unsaddle. "The master is home," he said.
Britta felt sick to her stomach. She leaned the axe against the outside wall and then she raced up the stairs two at a time and through the bedroom door. She stopped still. Robert was walking slowly towards the half covered Lydia with a pistol in his hand and was reaching over with his other hand to cock it. Britta yelled "No, what are you doing?" She looked at Beth who was standing doing nothing. "Beth, do something. He means to shoot her."
"Missy," Beth replied shrugging her shoulders. "He is my master. It is not my place."
"You are wrong, Britta," hissed Robert as he eased off the hammer. "I cannot shoot her. It must look like an accident." He stepped closer to the window and opened it. "Come over here Lydia and look at the view."
"No, Lydia stay away from the window!" yelled Britta.
"Stay out of it, Britta," said Lydia. "He will kill me anyway, like he did his first wife, and her black baby. I saw it all. I blackmailed him into making our love child his heir by marrying me."
"Our child, our child, you fool," Robert said. "I have been sterile since I was wounded in the war. Ellen's last baby was not mine. Not possible. I had already forgiven her and I was going to raise the baby as my own, but, but, the baby was black. She had fornicated with a slave. She deserved to die.
Robby also is not mine, but now I know who the father is. As soon as Beth carried you in here half naked and smelling of sex, I knew. He will not outlive you by more than an hour. Now get over to this window. If you come quietly, then I promise that I will raise Robby as my own."
Red came running into the room panting. Robert aimed his pistol at him and tried to cock the hammer. He was not fast enough. As soon as the pistol was aimed away from Lydia, Beth stepped towards him and her huge hip smashed into his body and he flew sideways and against the window sill. He teetered for a few seconds on the sill. Instead of saving himself with his hands, he was still trying to cock the hammer and then he fell over the window sill, flipping as he did so, and fell head first, and down. There was a sickening crunch from below.
Everyone ran to the window and looked down. Robert's hands still gripped the pistol, but his head was twisted at a ghastly angle from his shoulders. Britta opened her mouth to scream, but Red put his hand cruelly over her mouth and yelled, "Shush, all of you shush! If you want to save Beth's life you must all be quiet."
Lydia stepped back from the window and slumped against the wall holding her belly.
Beth grabbed Red's wrist and cruelly twisted his hand away from Britta's mouth and hissed, "Don't you ever touch her again."
Released from Red's grip, Britta stepped into Beth's arms and was drawn into her great bosom for comforting.
Red shrugged at Beth and said, "We must all tell the same story of how this happened, for the truth is that you have killed your master. Even if it was an accident you will still be hung." He walked to the bedroom door and closed it, shutting them all in. "He obviously tripped and fell out of the open window, but why?"
"I can hear voices outside, down below. What about the pistol. How do we explain the pistol?" asked Lydia. They all were lost in thought at her words.
"He came home from his trip to Boston," Red acted out his idea. "While riding the highway, he carried a loaded pistol for protection. He opened the window and sat on the sill so that he could empty the powder from the pistol without making a mess inside. He was tired. He lost his balance and fell. Beth was never in this room. The witnesses must be only Lydia and Britta."
Lydia was nodding her head. "Britta, will you tell this lie to save Beth?"
Britta looked up into Beth's pudgy ugly face and her big black eyes. "I will. Of course, I will."
Red kept up his pantomime, "I came to the house just after it happened, and found Lydia and Britta in shock and tears and so I took charge, and got Beth to help me carry the body into the house. Then I rode to get help from the village. " He looked at Beth. She nodded back. "Come then Beth, we must collect the body."
Lydia walked behind them to the door and closed it. She turned towards Britta. "Don't tell Red."
"What?" Britta's mind was elsewhere.
"Don't tell Red that I carry his child."
"But if you tell him he will marry you."
"He will move heaven and earth to marry me in any case. Through Robby, I now own this estate. I am a wealthy widow. I don't need to marry him. I don't want to marry him."
"But..."
"I just survived two years married to a slave trader and a murderer. Red is a moneylender. Do I want to be shackled to yet another evil husband? I think not. I do not need a husband at all, because Robert made Robby his heir." Lydia put a hand to her belly. "This one also will carry Robert's name. Only you and I and Beth know for sure that it is Red's."
She walked to Britta and hugged her. "We will get away from here and move somewhere where we will be safe from Red. Both of us, and Robby. Jon and Lucy can run the estate until I can decide what to do, but we must get away from here, and quickly."
They held each other for many minutes, until the door opened and Red walked in holding the pistol. They swung apart and stared at the gun, and at Red.
Red walked up to them without seeing the panic on their faces. He was messing with the pistol. "I sent Jon to fetch the constable from the village."
"That was not our plan," said Britta, still staring at the gun.
"Jon had picked up the pistol. I needed to empty it before fetching the constable. It was easier just to send Jon." Red walked to the window and looked out to make sure that there was no one there. Then he emptied the powder out the window, taking care to do a messy job so that some of the powder stayed on the sill. "I'll just take this downstairs. Lydia, you should make yourself decent before the constable arrives."
Lydia stood up, and Red could not control his urge to take her in his arms and let his hands roam over her skin. "No, Red," she said sternly, as she pushed him away, "no one must ever suspect that we were lovers. I must be a grieving widow for six months. At least six months."
"That will drive me mad. You so close and yet so far."
"I will go to Boston and stay with my step-daughter."
Red thought about this. "Yes, yes, that is good. That fits. He has no kin left in this valley. They all live closer to Boston. So you must leave soon before the body putrefies. Have the funeral in Boston so that his kin can attend. Yes, that works. It will stop any gossip from spreading. No one from this valley will go to Boston for his funeral. They hated him."
"I will take Britta with me. I will leave Jon here to help Lucy run the estate," said Lydia.
"Take Beth, too. That way all of the witnesses are gone from here."
"No, Beth must stay. Jon will need her help. Besides, she could never pass for my maid in Boston."
Britta laughed, and then apologized for laughing at such a sad time. "It's just that I pictured in my mind what Beth would look like dressed as a lady's maid." The other two laughed too, for they also needed a release from the tension.
Red ran his hands over Lydia's body, and up under her shawl, which was all that she had worn since Beth had picked her off the bed at his house. Was that only an hour ago? "Six months will pass like an eternity."
"For me too, love," whispered Lydia, "for me too. Now go downstairs and wait for the constable."
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA’S AURA - the Redemptioner by Skye Smith
Chapter 15 - October 1772 The Anchor Coffee Shoppe, Boston
Britta curled into her chair and looked out from their second story window to watch the men and carts splash along the dim, damp, city street below. Though summer had stayed long into autumn, winter came early. The town of Boston was gray and wet and therefore dreary and muddy.
They had stayed barely a week with Robert's grown daughter, Lydia's step-daughter of like age. Only until the funeral was finished and the will read. Robby inherited the farm, while the daughter inherited all the money. Both sides contested the will, and thus Lydia became immediately unwelcome in her step-daughter's house.
The morning they left to move to a guest house, the step-daughter had stood at the garden gate and watched them go, yelling that she had proof that her father could not sire children. Lydia suddenly had a crisis that she was not expecting. Robert's Boston lawyer, who had read the will, and was executor, sent her notice that the entire estate was now under trusteeship until there was a settlement. This left Lydia with the money in her purse and little chance of getting more until the will was decided.
Red Jennison had come to Boston for the funeral of his neighbor, and was the only one of the neighbors who did so. He lingered to hear of the will, and once it was contested, only a day more. Lydia refused his offer of a loan, for that would surely trap her into a marriage to him. Her excuse to him was that they had to stay away from each other while she played the grieving widow.
She did agree, however, that Red ride quickly back to the farm, before a trustee could be arranged. There he was to have Jon gather all the money and saleable valuables that he could find and bring them to Lydia. That hopefully would give her enough funds to last her until the will was settled.
Lydia's dreams were in tatters. She had so hoped to become a wealthy Boston widow, attending all the best parties, and keeping company with all the best people. Instead she was just another poor country cousin. As with all such cousins, the first thing she found out was that in town, unlike in the country, cash was king and everything had a price.
On the recommendation of her step-daughter, she had taken furnished rooms at a newly renovated guest house with a wonderful location just up the street from Faneuil Hall and its surrounding markets. It was a fine brick building, aging gracefully and their four large rooms were above a still-vacant shop front. The rent was surprisingly low, especially if paid by the month.
It was not until she had paid for the first month, that she realized that she had been cruelly duped by her step-daughter. Last year, before the renovation, the store front had been a tavern so debauched that it had been closed down by the authorities. At the time, the guest house above it was of very ill repute where rooms were rented by the hour. With such an address Lydia had no hope of being introduced to the best people of Boston.
Things only got worse. Jon arrived, and though Britta was ecstatic to be reunited with her brother, the funds he brought to them were meager. On his last trip to Boston, Robert had deposited any excess money in his bank, and all accounts were now controlled by the trustee.
For a week they hid in their rooms from the endless early winter rains. At least they had a good view of a busy corner which made for interesting people-watching. The foot traffic bene
ath them was mostly business men rushing to and from the various counthouses along the two streets around them.
Britta bounced Robby on her knee to make him giggle and wished she could see the faces of the men passing below. One could, after all, be a future husband, but what chance did she have of meeting him. Her thoughts went back to all the young men she had met while working in Sabin's Tavern in Providence, and an idea came to her.
The more she thought about it, the better it seemed, so she went to discuss it with the landlord. He was amiable both to her, and to her idea. He was very pleased to sit beside her at his desk while she explained her idea, and together they made up a business plan including a list of ideas, and a list of problems.
Sitting beside him was not such a pleasure for Britta. He was old, over forty, and wore a wool suit that smelled in the way that damp wool always does, and his breath was fouled by his rotting teeth. In short, he made her skin crawl when he sat close by, but she could not afford to insult him by keeping her distance.
It was only when she had a business plan, and the landlord's promises to help, that she approached Lydia and Jon to explain it to them. "The shop front downstairs has a good location but the old Anchor tavern had such a bad reputation that the landlord has been unable to find a tenant. It would be ideal for another tavern and he is trying to get permission from the authorities to reopen it. If it becomes a tavern, our life living above it will become unbearable. Think of the noise and the smell and the drunks hanging about our doorway."
"Yes, yes," said Lydia, "we know this. I am looking for other rooms for us. It's just that good rooms with good addresses are so expensive. Remember that we have no income, and I do not want to take money from Red." She was feeling the new baby inside of her now, and rarely walked far from the building, never mind look for other rooms.
Britta had been having nightmares in which Lydia sold her bond to a brothel and she was forced to pleasure old men with bad teeth and bad breath. She took a deep breath and put on a brave smile and said, "I have the solution to both problems. We will rent the shop front and open a business. In that way we control the noise and smells from below, and we will have an income. I already have the blessing of the landlord."
