by Kari Edgren
This news shocked me. “How could you be indentured without his knowledge?”
“Someone thought my father owed a debt, and had me pressed into taking passage to the Colonies.”
My mouth went suddenly dry. Pressed... “You were indentured against your will?”
He waved off my question. “The particulars are not important.”
“But Henry,” I protested. “This isn’t right. We must contact the authorities at once.”
“I’ve written to my father and that will serve for now.” He smiled at me. “Besides, we’ve made a deal. You saved me from Fletcher and I’m going to save you from Crowley. There’s time enough to get matters in England straightened out.”
I shook my head, greatly disturbed by this revelation. It was bad enough that I’d used his station as an indenture to force him into marriage. But if the contract had not been legal from the start, I’d be an accomplice to the far worse crimes of kidnapping and forced servitude. Merciful heavens! I’d be guilty of slavery!
“In good faith, I must cancel the contract. Or at the very least, postpone your indenture until an investigation has been conducted into—”
Henry held up a hand to cut me off. “I’ve already told you that the matter has been dealt with for now, and I see no reason to break our deal.” A hint of a smile spread over his mouth. “Unless you are trying to get rid of me.”
“No!” I practically cried, much to my own surprise. Getting rid of Henry was the last thing I wanted to do.
His smile widened. “Then we will agree to let things rest.”
I bit my bottom lip in thought. “All right,” I said after a moment, “but you must promise to let me know if you have second thoughts.”
He placed a hand on his chest. “Upon my soul, I swear to confess any dissatisfaction with my current situation. Will that do?”
I gave him a wry look, not sure what to make of his carefree attitude. There were rumors of those who profited from illegally pressing people into servitude—spiriting them away, I believe it was called. If this had ever happened to me, I would be pounding on the doors of every authority from here to Philadelphia, demanding justice. And if that failed, I would have had no qualms about escaping, contract or not.
My breath caught from the memory of Henry’s previous interest in Boston and the long walks he’d taken late at night when first arriving at Brighmor. “Do you know anyone else in the Colonies?” I hoped he hadn’t noticed the strain in my voice.
“My father has an acquaintance who lives in Boston. Why do you ask?” He looked at me with keen interest, seemingly forgetting how he had all but asked me to draw a map showing the quickest route from Philadelphia to Boston less than two weeks ago.
“No reason,” I lied. “I was just wondering.”
He’d given me enough to think about for some time, and I fell silent while I worked the pieces into a clearer picture. Like myself, he had nearly been forced into marriage, and one that might have gotten the King’s notice if he refused. This seemed highly irregular for the son of a retired sailor, unless Henry’s father had been more important, or higher up in command, than I assumed.
Which made the matter of his indenture all the more puzzling. In light of what he had told me, I should have torn the contract into pieces regardless of any protests otherwise. I knew this was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t—not yet anyway.
My head was spinning by the time we got back into the carriage. Henry let the reins rest idly in his hands and turned to me. “Do you think it’s so important for like to marry like?” he asked.
“Sometimes,” I answered hesitantly, unsure about the direction of his question.
“What if two people fall in love who are completely different? Do you think it could work?”
“How different are they?”
“Not even from the same world,” he said, staring at me.
I swallowed hard. “Some differences are too great to overcome. In these cases, I’m afraid the lovers would be destined to a life of misery.”
“So you don’t think love can overcome any obstacle?” he asked indignantly, though his smile said otherwise. “I thought all women were hopeless romantics and believed such things.”
“Only those who prefer fairytales to reality.” I laughed. “In this life, people aren’t so ready to accept what they don’t understand.”
“Then maybe I would prefer to live in a fairytale, if it means the freedom to love whomever I want.” He turned toward the horse and snapped the reins.
As the inertia pulled me back in my seat, I was struck by the similarity of our predicaments. We might not be so different after all. The idea seemed possible for about three seconds. Then I remembered what I was, and almost laughed out loud from the absurdity of such a thought.
* * *
At the Appletons’, a maidservant showed us into a small sitting room where Matthew and Susanna greeted us happily. Gauging Susanna’s wry smile, I knew at once that our scheme had been discovered. After the promised cake and wine, we slipped into her bedroom.
“So, Matthew told you I was feeling poorly today,” she said when the door was closed.
“I already suspected, since you weren’t at meeting. And if he hadn’t invited me over tonight, I would have come over first thing tomorrow morning with some excuse of my own.”
“It appears that between the two of you, I’m not allowed a bad day to myself.” She laughed good-naturedly and took a seat at the end of the bed. “Do you want to hear everything then, or should I keep to the bigger problems?”
“Oh, you’d better tell me everything,” I said, placing two fingers on her wrist. “Because I’ll just find out later from Matthew anyway.”
While Susanna relayed her various ailments, I counted her pulse and then checked her feet and ankles for swelling. Wanting a better sense of what was going on with the baby, I placed one hand directly on her abdomen and took a quick peek inside where I found the infant girl curled up and peacefully sleeping. Her heartbeat felt weaker than I wanted, but there was still plenty of time for improvement.
“Does the baby kick often?” I asked.
“Mostly at night when I’m trying to sleep,” she said. “It’s a wonder I’ve any energy during the day at all.”
Though she pretended not to be worried during the examination, I could feel her anxiety radiating into me. “Susanna, from what I can tell, your baby is doing just fine and you’re suffering from nothing more than an acute case of indigestion.” While I spoke, my hand rested on her stomach, and a flood of happiness rushed into me from the news.
“How much longer, do you think?” she asked. “I can hardly breathe with his feet pushing into my lungs.”
“Hopefully another six weeks.” I bit my tongue so as not to blurt out that the child was a daughter instead of a son. “And you need to do everything possible not to start early labor. Drink plenty of water and keep off your feet.”
“I could do nothing else with Matthew following me about like a mother hen. I tell you, it’ll be a blessing to get this baby out just so I can have a moment’s privacy again.” She smiled despite her complaints, clearly amused by her husband’s attention. “He’s a good man, that Matthew, and I don’t care to think of what my life would have been like without him.”
My thoughts immediately turned to Henry and what he had said this afternoon. “Susanna, do you think love can overcome any obstacle that may come between two people?”
“Sure it can,” she said, absentmindedly rubbing her stomach. “Along with trust and a whole lot of hard work.”
“So you don’t think there’s anything two people can’t get through?”
“Not if they’re willing to work. Marriage isn’t easy, but if two people are committed, there’s nothing more rewarding.”
I sa
t down beside her on the bed, my thoughts weighing heavily from her words. It would have been easier if she had simply said that some things were too difficult to overcome, and weren’t worth the trouble. That’s what my own mother had taught me, and how I’d managed to keep my heart safely guarded for all of these years. Any man not belonging to either the MacBres or Kilbrid clans was off limits—end of discussion.
“And how did you know that you loved Matthew?”
The absentminded expression fell away and she looked at me closely. “Do you want the responsible answer or the real answer?”
“Responsible first.”
“Very well.” She screwed up her mouth and took a minute to think. “Once I saw that he was an honorable man and would make a good husband, then I knew I could love him.”
This sounded reasonable enough. “And the real answer?”
“When he kissed me the first time, and my shoes just about caught fire.”
“My goodness!” I exclaimed. “Were you hurt?”
She looked at me curiously for a moment and then started laughing so hard tears came to her eyes. “Not literally,” she said, dabbing the tears with a sleeve. “Matthew’s a good kisser, but I’ve never heard of any man who’s ever really been able to set a girl’s shoes alight. I meant that I felt a fire inside.”
My face grew warm from embarrassment.
Susanna took my hand and patted it reassuringly. “Don’t worry yourself, Selah. You and Henry haven’t even known each other for two full weeks. There’s no rush and no reason to feel silly. You and Henry might be sleeping in separate rooms while you get used to each other, but you’re a far step ahead of me when I was first married.”
“I don’t even know what it feels like to be kissed properly,” I protested sullenly, opting not to count the time William pecked my cheek or when Henry had kissed me out of anger the day we were married.
“How many babies have you delivered by yourself since your mother died?”
“About twelve,” I said.
“I was an only child and didn’t know one whit how a baby got in or out of a woman’s midsection until the night before I was married. Think about the shock of hearing that for the first time so close to your wedding day. It’s a miracle I didn’t make Matthew sleep in another room. And I probably would have if he didn’t kiss so well.”
I started to laugh from her confession, but it faded quickly, subdued by the sense of guilt steadily growing behind my ribs. If Susanna had known the truth of my marriage, she would have offered very different advice, indeed. I sighed, thinking about what it would be like to have a lifetime with Henry, rather than a just year or two before he sailed back to England. Our little façade was the closest I would ever come to experiencing the rewards of marriage.
“How about if we rejoin the men so Matthew can stop his worrying?” Susanna suggested, pushing herself awkwardly to her feet. “And by the way Henry’s been watching you tonight, I imagine the lad’s just as eager for our return.”
My heart gave a sudden thump. “What do you mean? How has he been watching me?”
She smiled, her hands resting protectively on the top of her belly. “Like a man should when he’s falling in love.”
I shook my head. “You must be mistaken. We...we’ve only just met. It would be...” I clamped my mouth shut. It would be impossible. No matter what Susanna said, Henry and I were too different. He would never be so foolish to fall in love with me...nor I with him.
“Oh, I know what I saw,” she persisted. “And at this rate, I’ll give it two more weeks before Henry Kilbrid is head over heels in love with you.”
I opened my mouth to protest when Brigid’s fire stirred unexpectedly in my core. Frowning, I pressed a hand to my abdomen. That’s odd...Not since I was first learning to master my gift had it ever come to life unbidden.
Susanna’s expression softened. “Don’t fight it, Selah. Love is a powerful feeling, and can be a bit overwhelming at first. Just follow your heart, and you’ll not go wrong.” She patted her belly. “Perhaps by next summer it’ll be your own babe coming into the world.”
I gulped hard as more fire nipped at my ribs. For heaven’s sake, what is wrong with me? Jumping to my feet, I wrapped my arms tightly around my midsection. “That last wine didn’t agree with me. I...I should probably be going.”
We were standing so close, it was impossible to escape her penetrating look. “You are looking a bit warm in the cheeks.” She chuckled softly to herself as I followed her back into the sitting room.
Chapter Nine
The Witch’s Bottle
Henry brought the carriage to a stop at the head of the stone walkway that led up to Brighmor’s front door. Gracefully alighting from his seat, he walked around to help me down.
“How are you feeling?” he asked with real concern.
I drew in a deep breath. “Much better. The night air did me good.” Along with no more unexpected visits from Brigid’s fire. The initial panic had subsided during the ride home, and I now attributed the entire episode to a fit of nerves brought on by the combination of Susanna’s mistaken observation and too much wine.
As the servants had neglected to leave any lanterns burning outside, Henry offered his arm for me to better negotiate the flagstones in my heels. “In that case, are you up for a game of chess before bed?” he asked.
I smiled at the suggestion. “Yes, I would. But be warned, I’m feeling rather lucky tonight—”
My right foot unexpectedly cracked against something hard, sending me sprawling forward. Fortunately Henry grabbed me by the waist and set me back on my feet before any further damage could be sustained, like my face slamming into the stone steps.
“Damnation!” I cursed, temporarily forgetting any semblance of manners due to the sharp pain radiating through my toe and up into my leg. It didn’t take an expert healer to know there was considerable damage that would be grieving me for some days to come.
“Are you hurt or just angry?” Henry asked with a mix of concern and amusement as another oath escaped my lips.
“Both!” I snapped, irritated by his tone. My foot could not bear weight without redoubling the pain and I carefully lowered myself onto the first step. Once situated, I stared into the darkness, hoping to identify what had tripped me. “Can you see what I kicked?”
“There’s nothing here,” he said, staring at the walkway. “Most likely you tripped on an uneven stone.”
“That’s impossible. My father was meticulous about keeping that path entirely level.”
Mrs. Ryan must have heard our voices—or my rather vociferous exclamations—for she stepped outside holding a lantern. “Have you been hurt?” she asked.
“Only a stubbed toe,” I said, downplaying my injury. “Mrs. Ryan, will you give Henry your light?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She handed over the lantern.
It took but a minute for Henry to find what had caused me to stumble. “It’s what I thought. This stone here is raised slightly higher on one side.”
“No,” Mrs. Ryan said, before I had a chance to repeat myself. “The late Master Kilbrid would not have allowed it. When my mistress was a young girl and first learning to walk, she tripped right here and knocked herself senseless. Her father was so angry that he fell into a rage and ordered every stone to be torn out and put in anew. Ever since it has been kept as smooth as the kitchen table.”
“That may be,” Henry said politely, “but this stone is what caught Selah’s foot.”
Without my having to ask, Henry got down on his hands and knees for a better look. From my seat on the step I watched him try to wiggle the stone back into place. This tactic soon proved futile, and giving up, he lifted the stone altogether to see what was impeding his efforts. Placing it to the side, he moved the lantern closer and then ran his fingers over the wet g
round. “The dirt has been recently disturbed.”
My thoughts turned at once to the vague memory of an animal scratching about while I slept, and I peered up at my bedroom windows. As Henry began pushing the loose dirt aside, I tried to find some reason behind this newest development. “No animal could have moved that stone,” I said. “Well, maybe a bear, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would a bear want to bury something under the walkway? Have you found anything yet?”
“Yes, I’ve got something,” he said at last, lifting a small bundle from its hiding place. “And it isn’t the work of any bears.”
I strained my eyes as he brushed away the remaining dirt, revealing an exterior of oilcloth bound up with twine.
“Bring it into the house, sir,” Mrs. Ryan said. “And we shall have a better look.”
I stood slowly, wincing painfully with the first step. Seeing my difficulty, Henry came directly to my side. “Please take these, Mrs. Ryan.” He handed over both the lantern and the package. He then placed his arm securely around my waist for support. We made our way to the house where we found Mrs. Ryan lighting more candles in the drawing room.
Henry deposited me safely in a chair before picking up the package from where she had set it on a side table. Truly mystified by what anyone would want to hide beneath the walkway, I watched Henry intently as he tugged off the string and folded back the cloth. A thick layer of straw came into view. Henry pushed this aside, uncovering a clear glass flask.
“Whatever could it be?” I asked, bewildered by our discovery. Henry held it up to one of the candles Mrs. Ryan had carried over, casting an eerie glow through the pale yellow liquid inside and showing a score of long dark strands, which looked disturbingly like hair.
“May I see that, Master Kilbrid?” Mrs. Ryan asked, her voice stiff with anger.
Henry handed over the bottle. We watched her turn it from side to side and then pull the cork to sniff the contents. “It’s as I thought,” she said, pursing her lips in displeasure.
