To Love and Cherish

by Tracie Peterson

  “I’m pleased that you continue to find my assistance to your liking.” There was so much more she wanted to say, but Melinda knew her place. Unless she intended to speak words of praise, a lady’s maid should remain silent. And that is all I am. A companion and maid to a woman of means. Nothing more.

  “Sally tells me you continue to receive letters from that hunter at Bridal Veil. I do trust you’re not encouraging him.”

  Melinda cringed at the comment. Would Sally never quit prying? The clock chimed as she placed a final pin in a curl. At least she’d been saved from the need for a direct response. “We’d best hurry or you’ll be late.”

  On more than one occasion Melinda had requested permission to remain at home rather than accompany the older woman to her social functions, but Mrs. Mifflin had made it clear she would not grant approval. Like the other ladies’ maids, Melinda was a symbol of Mrs. Mifflin’s social status. Much like the jewels and accessories worn by their mistresses, the maids had to be shown off, as well.

  That afternoon’s gathering was no different than the hundreds that had gone before. The genteel ladies of Cleveland gathered in Lucy Hollister’s parlor, and after a few cursory bits of conversation, the maids were dismissed to sit in the expansive hallway or on the veranda that surrounded the Hollister home. Of course, they weren’t supposed to be out of earshot, in case their mistresses would send the butler to fetch them. Melinda chose to sit outdoors. She’d tucked her stitching and a copy of Emma into her bag. Mrs. Mifflin had loaned her the book as well as some of Jane Austen’s other books. Although Melinda read all of Austen’s novels while a student, she’d been taking pleasure in them once again.

  Spotting several chairs under a large buckeye tree, she wandered away from the porch. No doubt Mrs. Mifflin would be unhappy if she saw her so far away from the house, but the tree would provide her a quiet, shady place to read. Better to apologize than seek permission—that was the servants’ oft-quoted mantra at the Mifflin household, and one Melinda had adopted of late.

  Melinda was soon lost in her book. From her earlier reading, she recalled the arrival of Frank Churchill’s friend Jane Fairfax and Emma’s reaction to the young woman, but it didn’t diminish her pleasure as she continued to read.

  She didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps and let out a gasp when two large hands covered her eyes. Someone leaned close to her ear—a man—and whispered, “Guess who?”

  “I have no idea, but you best unhand me before I scream for help!”

  The shield dropped away from her eyes, and Melinda twisted around in the lawn chair. Recognition was immediate. “Lawrence! Where did you come from?” Her book clattered to the grass when she reached to embrace her brother. With his arms still encircling her, she leaned back and looked into his eyes. “I can’t believe this.”

  He chuckled and squeezed her a bit tighter. “You can believe it. I’m quite real. Surely you didn’t think you’d never set eyes on your brother again.”

  “No, of course not, but you haven’t kept in touch, and I’ve been worried. The last I heard from you was before you accepted a position on a ship and said you planned to sail the seas and make your fortune.”

  His hazel eyes twinkled as he released her from his arms. “I’ve accomplished part of what I set out to do.” He leaned down, retrieved her book, and then motioned for her to sit down before he took the chair beside her. “I’ve sailed the seas, but I haven’t yet made my fortune.” He grinned. “But I’m still working on it.”

  “Doing what?”

  “At the moment I’m working as a groomsman and jockey for Harris Dangerfield.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs in front of him. “Rather surprising for the son of Kathleen and Lincoln Colson, wouldn’t you agree? I’m a tad taller than most jockeys, but my thinness is to my advantage.”

  Melinda heard the pain in his voice. “It’s honest work, Lawrence. And hard work never hurt anyone. Isn’t that what everyone says?”

  Their parents’ deaths had been difficult for both of them, but she had worried about Lawrence and his love of gambling. Her father had done his best to keep Lawrence on a tight rein, but mostly it had been unsuccessful. Like a moth to a flame, Lawrence was drawn to wagering on cards, horses, and everything else.

  “Maybe, but I don’t plan to work hard for the rest of my life. I’ll find a way to make my fortune. But I’ll not follow in Father’s footsteps and lose it all.”

  Bitterness replaced the pain she’d detected in his voice only a few moments earlier, but she was pleased to hear that he didn’t plan on losing his fortune once he’d made it. Perhaps he’d truly given up his penchant for gambling.

  He leaned forward and grasped her hand. “And you shouldn’t be working as a lady’s maid. To see you kowtow to the likes of Dorothea Mifflin would have destroyed our mother.”

  “Well, it is far better than living on the streets. I’m thankful I received the education and training that allowed me to secure honorable work.” She glanced around to make certain no one else was nearby. “But I don’t think I’ll be working for Mrs. Mifflin much longer.”

  He released her hand and once again relaxed in the chair. “And how are you going to manage that feat?”

  “I’m in love with the assistant gamekeeper at Bridal Veil Island.” She hesitated a moment. “The Mifflins spend most of the winter months there. I met Evan at Bridal Veil, Evan Tarlow. We were introduced the first year I went to work for the Mifflins.” Her words gushed forth like water streaming from a well-primed pump. “I think you’d like him.”

  “I realize your opportunity to marry someone from the upper class has disappeared, Melinda. But surely you could find someone better suited than a gamekeeper living on a remote island down in Georgia. Is that really what you want?” His eyebrows arched into twin peaks.

  “He hasn’t yet asked me to marry him, but when he does, I won’t hesitate for a minute. He’s a wonderful man, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Where we live doesn’t matter to me as long as I’m with Evan.” She jutted her chin for emphasis.

  “Then, if that’s what you want, I’ll wish you all the happiness in the world when—or should I say if—you marry him.” He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Living on that island would probably be better than dealing with Dorothea Mifflin. She seldom has a kind word to say about anyone.” He shook his head. “And her husband bullies any of his business associates who show the slightest sign of weakness. Father always said that Cyrus and Dorothea were a match deserving each other.”

  “That isn’t kind, Lawrence.” During the years since her parents’ deaths, Melinda had missed her brother and his jocular attitude. Throughout his life, Lawrence had been able to make his way without exerting much effort. He let his good looks and humor—and the family money—carry him. But his carefree days had ended when their parents died.

  “I came back to Cleveland to spend time with my sister, and now I discover you’ll soon be leaving for Georgia. Maybe I should have remained aboard those steamers.”

  “No, you should not! I won’t be leaving Cleveland all that soon. I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Mifflin will want to leave until after Christmas, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.” Melinda had been doing her best to encourage a departure prior to Thanksgiving but had met with little success. “What was it like, living like that these past years? I can’t imagine sailing from one place to the next, never sure where I’d be.” She glanced toward the front porch. Several of the maids were returning into the hallway. “I want to hear all about the places you visited.”

  “And you will. I have a number of souvenirs for you.” He combed his fingers through his thick blond hair. “I know I should have written, but I’ve never been good at that sort of thing.”

  She smiled and patted his arm. “You’re forgiven. I’m just pleased that we’ve reunited. Tell me, after all those years at sea, how did you ever happen to be hired to work as a jockey and groomsman for Mr. Dangerfield?”


  “I’m a man of many talents, dear sister. I never lost my love for horses and continued to ride whenever we were on land. When I got back here, a fellow asked me to ride his horse in a local race. Of course, I won.” He puffed out his chest and laughed. “Mr. Dangerfield happened to be there and approached me afterward. I’ve been with him the past few weeks.”

  She hoped his mention of racing didn’t mean he was still gambling. “I have a wonderful idea, Lawrence. Why don’t you come to Bridal Veil when I go down with the Mifflins? There are stables on the island, and the wealthy guests all bring their horses. I’m sure Evan would put in a good word so that you could get work. I’ll write a letter and ask him. There are lots of servants and employees who come for the season, so we have our own social gatherings. It’s really quite nice.”

  “Any young ladies who might interest me?”

  “There are a great many there. Servants as well as the daughters of the wealthy investors, but I don’t think you’d better attempt to woo any of the debutantes. Their fathers want suitors from their own social class.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Please consider it, Lawrence. It would be so grand to have you there.” Before Lawrence could weigh her request, Mrs. Mifflin stepped on the veranda and glanced about. Melinda jumped to her feet. “I have to go, but come see me and consider what I’ve said.”

  Lawrence retrieved her stitching bag and studied the title of her book as he handed it to her. “Emma. Still the romantic, I see.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll think about Bridal Veil.”

  “I have to hurry,” she said. With the bag in one hand and book in the other, she scurried toward the front porch. Mrs. Mifflin wouldn’t be happy. She didn’t like to be kept waiting.

  The older woman sighed as Melinda neared her side. “I thought you maids were told to wait in the hallway or on the veranda.” She squinted out at the lawn. “And who is that man you were with? Did I see him kiss your cheek?”

  Melinda tucked her book back into her bag. “My brother, Lawrence. You remember him, don’t you?” Mrs. Mifflin said nothing but hurried to the carriage as if the presence of Lawrence were something she must escape.

  Matthew assisted them into the carriage, and once they were on their way, Mrs. Mifflin took up the conversation. “I thought Lawrence had gone to sea. Cyrus said he was always a disappointment to your father.” With a flick of her wrist, she opened her fan.

  “That’s not true. My father loved Lawrence.” Her father might not have approved of some of Lawrence’s choices, but he had never spoken of disappointment in his son. “Lawrence was at sea. He’s traveled to many countries, but now he’s come back to Cleveland and is working for a Mr. Dangerfield.”

  “Doing what? I don’t think Harris Dangerfield owns a ship.”

  “Lawrence tells me he’s been hired as a groomsman and jockey for the Dangerfield family.”

  “My, my. Whatever would your poor mother and father think of that? While Lawrence was off at sea, there weren’t any questions about him. For all anyone knew he could have been captain to his own ship. But now that he’s back in Cleveland and working as a groomsman . . . dear me.” She clasped a hand to her bodice and shook her head. “He’s truly going to be an embarrassment to your family name, isn’t he?”

  Even Mrs. Mifflin’s unkind comments couldn’t crush Melinda’s pleasure at having her brother return to the city. Besides, when the wealthy residents of Cleveland realized her parents had died penniless, they’d crossed the Colson name off their social lists faster than it took to ring their servants for a pen. There was no longer a family name for Lawrence, or her, to embarrass.

  CHAPTER 7

  OCTOBER 1898

  Sharing supper with the O’Sullivans had become a time Evan cherished. Being with the older couple always made Evan feel cared for. It calmed his spirit in a way he couldn’t explain. Tonight, however, there was a storm brewing, and no one felt even the slightest sense of calm. Only moments before, Garrison O’Sullivan had made his way outside to check the skies.

  He returned with a look of worry and addressed Harland, who was eating with them, as well. “Wind’s picking up a little more, Harland. I’m thinkin’ ya may be right about gettin’ the animals to safety. I’ll get on down to the barn and saddle a couple of horses. If y’er a mind to, you can come and help me move the rest of the horses and the cattle to the pasture. We can only hope they won’t go wanderin’ too far when the storm moves in.” He grabbed his cap from a peg near the door. “If we lose the livestock, there’s gonna be more than a wee bit of complainin’ from the owners.”

  Emma waved a dish towel in the air. “Be sure and take care of the milk cows, Garrison. There’s plenty of folks dependin’ on milk from the dairy during the winter months.” Her lips tipped up in a grin. “And I depend on ’em all year round.”

  “I do na need ya telling me how to do me job, Emma, darlin’. I’ll be taking care of all the animals. I know full well they’re important to everyone—you and me included.” Garrison slapped his hat on his head. There was an edge to his voice that Evan knew had nothing to do with his irritation at Emma and everything to do with the storm.

  “I’ll be with you as soon as I give Evan some instructions.” Harland turned toward Evan. “I want you to go over to the workers’ quarters and roust the fellows over there. Between all of them, maybe they can get around and make sure everything is secure. Have several of them check the clubhouse to see that shutters are closed good and tight and the doors secured. Send the others to check as many of the cottages as you can. Close and tighten shutters on any that need it.”

  Most of the cottages had been shuttered when the owners went north for the summer. Still, there were a few, like the Mifflins, who had departed in a rush and might not have checked to see that their cottages had been properly secured by their servants.

  “You go to the boathouse. Take Alfred with you. He’ll listen to you, and you’ll need help in there.”

  Evan nodded. Only a dozen men lived on the island this time of year. The seasonal workers returned home when the guests departed at the end of winter, and the rest of the workers who helped with painting and maintenance during the off-season months lived in Biscayne and arrived by boat each morning. Those men had already departed for the night.

  Alfred had the same opportunity to go home to Biscayne each night. But with a drinking, mean-spirited father, he preferred living in the workers’ quarters year-round. Each payday Alfred would take the launch across the river and give his wages to his father, and then he’d return to the island. He was far from their best employee, but Evan had a soft spot for him. Probably because the young man wanted to please his father but never could. Evan had felt the same way until he’d come to Bridal Veil and met Harland. Not that coming here had changed the relationship with his father, but Harland had shown him that a relationship with God could ease that pain and provide him the loving father he’d always desired. Evan had tried to show that to Alfred, as well, but he didn’t know if Alfred had fully accepted the idea of a loving heavenly Father.

  Harland sopped the last of his stew with a crust of bread and shoved it into his mouth before pushing up from the table. “Hurry and finish, Evan. We’ve got little light left to help guide us.”

  Evan swallowed his final bite and nodded. “I’m right behind you. Thank you again for the food, Mrs. O’Sullivan. It was the best I’ve had in many a day.”

  She turned from the dishes she’d set to soak in the sink. “I’m thinkin’ it’s the best you’ve had since the last time you set your feet under my table.” She chuckled and lifted a soapy hand from the water. “Best be gettin’ down the road, or I’ll be accused of holdin’ ya back with me chatter.”

  Evan waved and opened the front door. A gust of wind yanked it from his hand and slammed it against the house. “I’m sorry!” he shouted while gaining a good hold on the door and pushing it closed.

  There was no denying the wind had picked
up in the short time since they’d entered the O’Sullivan cottage. If it kept up at this rate, he might be forced to agree with Harland that there was a good chance of a hurricane headed in their direction. The thought, more than the biting wind, caused a shiver to course through his body.

  Leaning forward, he angled his head down and pushed against the blustery weather. With each step forward, he felt the escalating winds attempt to push him back. Swirling coils of air filled with dirt, sand, and debris pummeled his face and hands like flying shards of glass.

  Thankful when he finally arrived at the workers’ quarters, Evan beat on the door several times before he opened it. Had the weather been otherwise, he would have waited for one of the men to invite him inside; these quarters, were, after all, their home. But today he pushed aside any thought of good manners. A huge gust of wind and debris followed him inside.

  Other than Alfred, who was sitting on his bed looking at a magazine, the men were huddled together in a far corner of the room playing cards. The group turned in unison, startled to see their cards, papers, and other belongings swirl about the room. Johnny Boyd jumped to his feet. “Close that door!”

  “It’s closed,” Evan called out. “I need all of you men to come with me. Put on your slickers, and if there’s an extra, I’d like to borrow it. There’s work that needs to be done with this storm moving in.”

  “I’m not going out in this,” one of the men responded. “There’s lightning off in the distance, and it’s been thundering for the last few minutes. The lights have been flickering here all evening.”

  “These are Harland’s instructions, not mine. You’ll be answering to him if you go against his orders.”