Bittersweet Endeavors

by Tamara Ternie

  “You seem more nervous than usual about this. Why are you so worried about—” Lucia paused when Myra passed the window, and the moon illuminated the smidgens of blood stains on her chemise.

  Myra followed Lucia’s stare and lowered her eyes toward the virginal spill that divulged her guilt. She turned around. “We made love tonight,” she whispered. What if he saw us?”

  “He shall not let this pass without incident.”

  “Tis true,” Myra nodded. She cleansed herself in the wash basin and reached underneath her hay filled bed, and pulled out a finely crafted silk chemise.

  “Take caution in wearing that,” Lucia warned, her head nodding toward the garment. “If Mister Preston decides to come in here tonight and confront you, he’ll not like it too much if he sees you wearing something so extravagant.”

  Myra agreed and tucked it away, deep beneath the covers. “He’d surely figure out that Seth provided it for me.”

  “Or accuse you of stealing it,” Lucia added.

  Myra rinsed the stains from her chemise and put the garment back on. Cold and damp, she tucked herself into bed. Closing her eyes, she envisioned her and Seth's lovemaking and it chased the chill away. However, the act would never repeat if his father saw them. She had already accepted the that they’d never truly be together, as husband and wife, but when she thought that she may never have another moment with Seth, it sickened her.

  “I saw Miss Margaret leave the house earlier, too. Was she meeting Mister Frederickson tonight?”

  “I don't know. They weren't with us. Yet if Seth hears of it, he’ll soundly beat Mister Frederickson head to heel. I don’t know why, but of late, he’s had a great dislike for him.”

  “I thought as much.” Lucia sat up in bed and hugged her arms around her raised knees. “I don't like that Mister Frederickson too much, either.”

  “Nor I,” Myra added.

  “Did you know him in England? Rumor has it that he was once one of The King's men.”

  “Nay, I cannot say I have, but there's something very familiar about his face.”

  “Some people have stated that King Charles threw him out of the court and deemed him a traitor to the crown.”

  “Hush,” Myra whispered, and she placed her finger on her lips. She looked at their four other roommates as they slept silently in their beds. “If someone overhears you making such accusations, they’ll surely whip you.”

  Lucia lowered her voice. “But tis the truth, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  Curiosity took over her better judgment, and Myra couldn’t resist. “What did he do?”

  “Didn’t you just say not to speak about it?”

  The light, snippy tone sounded, and Myra imagined that an ornery grin played on Lucia's lips although the darkness shielded her. She could easily envision her dimples as they creased into Lucia’s cheeks. “Just whisper low.”

  Lucia lowered herself onto the floor and leaned against Myra's bed. “Before Charles the First lost power, Mister Frederickson was a trusted general, as well as friend, in his court. They even say that The King favoured him above all the other men.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I'm getting to that,” she said. “After The King lost power, Zachary decided to secretly join the Parliamentarian. Tis said he was with them all along, supplying information against His King. Frederickson went to many of the judges and urged to have The King beheaded. When your cousin Charles the Second heard about his betrayal against his father, he vowed to avenge The King, despite the Indemnity and Oblivion Act, as he feels his personal betrayal doesn’t fall under the amnesty protection of the clause.”

  “I never heard anyone ever mention this before,” Myra said bewildered. “My parents were always so cautious with protecting me from such matters.”

  “If you’d open your ears instead of drifting off into the clouds, you may have caught wind of this gossip yourself,” Lucia finished with a grin.

  Myra sighed and thought about Mister Frederickson’s identity and how he’d stayed hidden for so long. “If you take into consideration of all the Cavaliers who’ve come to Virginia, wouldn't you think it odd for Mister Frederickson to come here and hide? That is, if the rumor is true.”

  “I wondered that, too, but some say his name isn’t Frederickson as he claims. Mayhap he thought being out in the open would be his best hiding place. Who’d expect a traitor of the crown to be in the middle of a royal colony?”

  Myra wrinkled her nose. “Tis peculiar, but could very well be the truth.”

  “Tis best you not repeat this to Seth,” Lucia cautioned. “We must keep in mind this is only servant to servant chatter. If the information is incorrect, we could be responsible for the man's killing when he mayhap not committed any crime.”

  “If he’s out with Margaret as you suspect, he mayhap be doing much wrong. And I shall do all possible to prevent Margaret from seeing him again until we know more.”

  “You’ve seen Mister Frederickson often enough, Myra. What’s he like?”

  “Truly, I know naught of him,” she said with a shrug. “When we go off for a picnic or walk, we usually go our separate ways than them. Although . . .”

  “What?”

  Myra bit the inside her lip and thought for a moment. “Well, although he never spoke to me directly, he has a way of, well, strangely looking at me,” she said with her eyebrows perked. “Deeply looking,” she added. A chill crept within her. “Tis though he is looking inside and studying me. It frightens me in a way.”

  “Be thankful that his affections are aimed at Miss Margaret and not you.” Lucia returned to her bed and Myra rolled into a ball and hugged herself against the cold.

  “Sleep well, Lucia.”

  “And you, Myra,” Lucia returned. Yet a few moments later, she asked, “Myra?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What was it like?”

  “What?” she murmured, already half-asleep.

  Lucia stammered for a moment and finally said, “You know…with Seth.”

  Myra smiled. Her heart constricted pleasantly with the memory.

  “Heaven, Lucia. T’was absolute Heaven.”

  * * *

  “I know tis sudden, Myra, but my return to England is the only way we shall secure our future together. I beseech you to understand. If there was another way—”

  ”But why now? Why has your father arranged this all so suddenly? You shall be taking leave on the morrow?” Her voice quavered and she took in a deep breath. The previous night they shared was a new beginning for her and Seth’s relationship, but now it appeared the end. How could he ask for her hand in marriage and then turn around and leave her?

  “Aye. My father came to my room late last evening and said he received a post from Cambridge. I must return posthaste for admittance. We spoke before about my returning, but I did not know he followed through. Yet, this can only help our cause.”

  “I cannot bear the thought of your leaving.” Myra turned away and hid her ensuing tears. “It shall be years before you return, Seth. Much can happen in that time.”

  Seth held her by the shoulders and forced her to face him, but she turned her head from him and looked down. She couldn’t face him. She knew that Seth’s departure would prove beneficial for their future, but it broke her heart. She even entertained the fleeting thought of asking Seth to find her sister while there. But she couldn’t risk Seth’s life. Although she loved her sister dearly, she couldn’t risk them both if Seth’s attempt proved unsuccessful. She needed to believe that Mary remained safe from harm. Her uncle, although ruthless, wouldn’t be reckless in his actions. He’d keep her unharmed to be assured of Myra’s silence. It also meant that he’d secure her silence by keeping Mary well hidden and out of her reach to be easily taken. It’d involve inquiries for Seth to find her, and that made it too high of a risk that he’d be harmed, as well as her sister.

  “Myra, naught shall change, I swear it. Once I am done with my educati
on, we can marry and I can support you without the aid of my father.”

  Myra knew she was being selfish by wanting him in Jamestown, but she couldn’t lose him, not when their relationship has grown so much. He’d become her strength, and she wondered how she’d survive once he left.

  “I wish I could take you with me,” he said softly. “But if I do, my father shan’t pay my tuition.”

  “You’re right, Seth. God knows you’re right. Leaving is what you must do, but I only wish that circumstances were different.”

  “I know you do, Myra, and one day it shall be better. One day, soon, we’ll be together.”

  “Shall you return and visit?” she asked, sniffing away more tears.

  “I’ll visit every chance I get.” Seth pulled her close, and his lips softly brushed hers. “I’ll miss you terribly,” he said, wiping her tears.

  “As I will you.”

  “We shall have a life together, Myra. Once all this is over, we shall return to England and you’ll have no more reminders of this life as a maid.”

  “England?” Myra asked excitedly. “Truly Seth, we can live there, together?”

  “Aye,” he laughed. “As long as we’re together, I shan’t care where we live.”

  Wrapping her arms around him, she cried. He gave her something she could look forward to, and that was what she needed—hope. Hope that all would work out for them, and faith that she’d make her way back to England, avenge her parents’ death and reunite with her sister.

  Yet something gnawed at her gut. As sure as the sun would rise the next morning, Myra feared there’d be an unwelcomed change coming soon. She felt it with every beat of her aching heart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Myra stood motionless when Anvil walked into the room with Zachary at his side. An instant feeling of dread surged through her.

  “Myra, this is Zachary Frederickson.” Anvil pierced a warning stare at her, but she wasn’t sure his reason.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Frederickson,” she said politely, but instinct gave her a sense of alarm. She took a wary step back. Pretending she had never met him, she raised her gray skirt just a slight bit above her ankles and curtsied. It had been five months since Seth had left for England and that was the first she saw Zachary Frederickson since that time. His flamboyant standard for fashion hadn’t changed, she noted, as he swept multicolor plumes from his hat in front of him in a grand gesture of greeting.

  “For a servant, she is very well mannered, Anvil. I’m most impressed.”

  Frederickson fingered a newly grown mustache and openly appraised her. By all standards, the man was handsome, Myra thought. Any woman would find him attractive, and although an older man, she could justify Margaret’s attraction to him despite his age. It mattered naught, though, for there was something very disconcerting about him. Something lacked in his character—she saw it in his eyes, menacingly cold within their murky gray depths. Hard and calculating, and they reminded her of her uncle, Sir Ashton. She wondered if Margaret finally had taken notice of his unpleasant demeanor, too, and was the reason she and Frederickson no longer met.

  “I agree,” Anvil boasted. “She’s very well mannered, indeed. Insomuch, she’s been staying in our new home as Mrs. Preston’s personal maid.”

  Myra’s flesh crawled as Zachary continued to stare at her in a peculiar, improper way. His tongue slithered out of his mouth and he wet his thin lips. Not once did his eyes leave her, and although she averted her eyes from him, she still felt his gaze boring into her.

  Myra faced him, and prepared an excuse for her leave, but his dark gray eyes squinted angrily and she relented. He smoothed his fine, black-gray hair, and looked over the length of her and smirked. It sent a chill down her spine and her hair stood on edge. Plain and simple—the man’s manner had repulsed her. How dare he do something so ungentlemanly? And for him to ogle her so openly without reproach added more insult.

  “I have duties to attend,” she murmured. “T’was an honor to have met you, Mister Frederickson.” Taking quick, long strides, she hurried toward the door, but was thwarted by Zachary’s hand that barred the door’s opening. Myra swallowed hard. She turned, faced Anvil, and raised a questioning brow, but he nervously cleared his throat and turned away.

  “Please,” Zachary said. “Stay and have some tea with me…I insist.”

  “I really mustn’t.” She tremulously smiled and took a step away from him. The scent of his fragrance flailed her senses and a wave of nausea consumed her. “I must finish some errands for Mrs. Preston.”

  “You shall stay, Myra,” Anvil sternly ordered. Anvil walked to the doorway, and his fingers grasped the doorknob so tight that his knuckles whitened. Before he shut the door behind him, he added, “You’ll be respectful and agreeable to Mister Frederickson’s requests.” He closed the door behind him, but Myra detected a moment of hesitation before he left her alone with Mister Frederickson.

  “What requests do you ask of me?” She stepped back behind the chair and her nails clung deep into the tightly strewn cushion.

  “Come and sit.” He patted the seat aside his own on the sofa, and waved his arm toward the table that was set for service of two. “Serve me some tea.”

  With caution, she rounded the chair and sat on the edge of the sofa, her feet set in position for dashing away if deemed necessary. She poured the tea with a trembling hand, and handed him the saucer that held the cup.

  “I hear you fancied Anvil’s son. Oddly, I had not gathered that from our past meetings together.”

  “We’re good friends,” she replied.

  “I’m happy to hear of that. I have personally learned that much of Jamestown’s titter-tatter is more tale than fact. Matters naught now, I suppose, since he’s gone missing.” He rested his hand on hers and she pulled away as if Hell’s fire had touched her. He glared at her for a moment, but then a smile, one she knew he thought so clever, appeared.

  “He’s studying at Cambridge. He’s absent, but not missing, Mister Frederickson,” she corrected.

  “So, you’ve not been told.”

  “Not been told of what?” A sickening feeling gnawed at her belly.

  “Seth never arrived. Many ships were threatened by harsh and deadly storms and they presume his ship sank since it never reached port.”

  “You lie,” she whispered. Her hands shook and her body went numb. The room began to spin and she thought she may wretch upon the floor.

  “I assure you, I am not. Anvil received word from Cambridge, as well as his brother which was where Seth planned to reside whilst there. Both letters confirm the worst.” Frederickson shifted in his seat, faced her, and reached for her hand again. On that attempt, he didn’t give her the opportunity to remove it. His grasp felt like a vice, and when she tried pulling away, he curved his fingers tightly around her wrist and stayed her movement. “You are now mine, Myra.”

  She couldn’t fight the tears. She writhed from his grasp, but it did no good. His strength overpowered her and Myra stopped her struggle. When she did, he released her.

  “Mister Preston sold me your contract. You are now mine.”

  Zachary paused for a minute and watched her. She wondered why Anvil Preston would sell her bond, especially now that Seth was missing and perhaps gone forever. “I don’t wish to leave here,” she said, her voice trembled with sadness and fear. She needed to stay. It was Seth’s home. All her memories of him were at the plantation. He’d be back; she had to believe that. She needed to be there when he returned.

  “I’ll be blunt, Myra. You can have it very easy whilst staying at my home or you can have a very difficult time of it. It all depends on you and your conformity.”

  He watched for her reaction, but she stayed calm, although she thought she’d surely burst into tears.

  She wanted Seth.

  “My wife died a few years past.” His words were cold, unemotional. “I need someone who can bear me strong sons.”

&
nbsp; Myra released a gasp. What about Margaret? Panic surged through her and another wave of dizziness almost befell her. Nay, she’d not do it! She might have a chance with avoiding his advances as a member of his staff within his home, but as his wife, he’d have rights and privileges she couldn’t deny. She rushed to the other side of the room. A short distance seemed her only escape. She remembered a time not too long ago when another man held her captive, and forced her into the life she presently led. She’d not allow that again. Unlike before, she’d fight back and not be a coward.

  “I’ll not marry you, Mister Frederickson.” She tipped her head upward and hoped it conveyed her determination, but his response was laughter that echoed throughout the room. Her burst of bravado didn’t daunt him in the least.

  “Well, my dear, as I explained, there are two ways we can deal with this.”

  “You’ll never have me, Mister Frederickson.” His laughter stopped cold by her declaration, and a look of anger reddened his face when she glared at him.

  “Then so be it,” he said coldly. “You apparently want to make this more difficult than needed. However, I’ll tell you forthwith, I aim to have you, Myra, and have you I shall.” He took a threatening step toward her and she cried out. She darted behind a granite statue for protection, and decidedly aimed to pitch it forward at him if deemed necessary.

  “Do not fret, my dearest, I’d not take you here whilst in the Preston home. Despite my rakish ways, I do have some limits to my indiscretions.” His body relaxed. His arms rested at his sides and he opened the door. “I shall be back on the morrow.” With a thoughtful expression, he smiled. “We could do well together, Myra, and I think if you give in to the opportunity, you may even find some affection for me. We can share much merriment with one another.”

  She remained behind the statue and didn’t emerge until several minutes after she heard the door close. She dropped to her knees and wept. Hopelessness swallowed her into a whirlwind of dread. She feared that Seth may be lost forever, as well as the fear of completely losing herself.