The Brynthwaite Boys - Season One - Part Two

by Merry Farmer

  “I’ve had an idea that we might be able to host local equestrian clubs for their events. I need you to see what offerings there are in the area and how The Dragon’s Head might play a part.” His back was perfectly straight and he almost looked down his nose at her, giving nothing away.

  “Yes, sir.” Flossie bobbed a half curtsy. “As soon as I replace the towels in room twenty-four.”

  “Go,” he snapped. She turned to head for the stairs, but he stopped her with, “And Flossie?”

  She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “Yes, sir?”

  “When you’re done with the equestrian clubs, find out where the hotel could purchase a few croquet sets. It dawns on me that croquet might be a draw for ladies’ clubs as well.”

  She would not grin or let her heart beat too fast. “Yes, sir.”

  As she headed up the stairs, she overheard Samuel say, “Sir, I could do those things.”

  “Nonsense,” Jason snapped. “Flossie will do it. You have other duties.”

  Flossie didn’t think anything of that exchange at first. Samuel was as sour as could be and likely to contradict anything she said or did. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for an ambitious young man to try to prove himself to his employer either. She forgot all about the incident until she came back down to the lobby after sprucing up room twenty-four.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Samuel hissed, coming out from around the desk to confront her.

  Flossie blinked. The lobby was empty but for her and Samuel. Jason’s office door was shut, which either meant he was inside or had gone out.

  “I’m doing my job,” she told Samuel, refusing to be intimidated.

  She tried to walk around him toward the hall, but he stepped in front of her.

  “You’re up to something, you conniving little bitch.”

  Flossie’s eyes flew wide and her heart sped up. “Excuse me,” she fired back. “I won’t have you speaking to me like that.”

  “What do you think you’re after, huh?” He stepped closer to her, anger radiating from him, his accent dropping to a harsh working-class grind. “You trying to get in the boss’s pocket?”

  “I am trying to do my job to the best of my abilities.” She crossed her arms and stared at him.

  “What do you want from him?” Samuel went on, more spiteful than ever. “You want his money? His favor?” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Or maybe a tricky little slut like you wants to wheedle your way into his bed.”

  Flossie laughed out loud, not so much because of the ridiculousness of the accusation, but because Samuel was three weeks too late in his guessing. “Why on earth would I want to do that?” she tested him.

  “Bribery?” he suggested. “He’d pay you a pretty penny to keep that sort of going on quiet.”

  Flossie’s confidence slipped by a hair. Jason was paying her and he did want to keep things quiet. But not for the reasons Samuel though. “I have work to do.” She tried again to walk around him.

  “Maybe it’s more than that.” He followed her. “You think if you get on the boss’s good side, slip between his sheets, maybe get yourself with his child that he might marry you and make you queen of us all?”

  Marry Jason. The idea sent a flood of too many emotions through her, not least of which was the sudden realization that if he asked, she’d say yes, whether she loved him or not. What kind of woman did that make her?

  She whipped to face Samuel, no longer in the mood to play nice. “You have an awfully sharp imagination, Samuel. You’d best be careful that it doesn’t run away with you. I don’t think the boss would like to hear that rumors of his personal business were circulating. He wouldn’t be pleased to discover the origin of them either.”

  Samuel flinched. She had him there. At least for now. He backed down. It helped that a pair of guests started down the stairs, and that Dora emerged from the staff hall with her hands full of mail.

  “Flossie, there’s a letter for you,” Dora said. “And one for you too, Samuel.”

  Dora approached them with a smile, handing out the letters. Samuel took his, glanced to the guests, then sent one last round of daggers at Flossie.

  “Watch your back,” he muttered before returning to the desk.

  Flossie turned the letter in her hand over. It was from Betsy. She smiled, but was quickly filled with trepidation.

  “What was that all about?” Dora asked as they continued on to the dining room together.

  “Mr. Throckmorton set me an important task and Samuel has his nose out of joint about it,” Flossie opted for truth for a change.

  Dora snorted. “Samuel thinks more of himself than anyone else. He’s jealous that Mr. Throckmorton puts so much trust in you.”

  “That much is obvious.”

  “I think Mr. Throckmorton has made a wise choice in relying on you,” Dora went on. “I always feel better when you’re in charge of things. I’m surprised you left service, actually. You could easily have ended up as a housekeeper someday.”

  “Do you think so?” Flossie asked, glad that the conversation had left the hotel and gone on to something innocuous.

  “Absolutely,” Dora smiled. “You have a natural command about you. You’ll go far in the hotel business, especially if you stick with Mr. Throckmorton.”

  They parted ways as Dora continued to the kitchen to hand out more mail. Flossie cut through the dining room and into the back garden by way of the side door. Two people in one day had implied she had untapped talent as a leader, one of them Jason. Jason, who had invested so much in her so quickly. It still didn’t sit right, as if she was taking something that didn’t belong to her.

  She pushed the thought aside and focused on the letter in her hands, praying that Betsy had good news and all was well. Flossie had sent more money home in the last two weeks than she ever had before. With any luck, it would be enough.

  “Dear Flossie,” she read as she walked around the garden path. “Thank you so much for the surprising sum you sent home last week. It was everything we could have hoped for and more. I am so grateful and so blessed to have a sister who works so hard to provide for her poor, unfortunate family.”

  Flossie smirked. If Betsy had any idea of the kind of ‘work’ that was involved in earning that sum, she might faint.

  “I only wish it was truly enough,” Betsy went on.

  Flossie’s face fell farther and farther as she read on. Times were hard at home, it seemed. There were rumors that the factory where her parents worked would go under, and then they would have little or no income. Betsy herself had been unwell and was having a hard time caring for her little ones. She wanted to hire someone to help, but money was tighter than ever. More troubles, more desperation. Flossie sighed, biting her lip. It seemed that no matter how hard good people fought, life was blessed for some and cursed for others. She wished she didn’t feel so helpless in the face of her family’s woes.

  She had made her way around to the front of the hotel and folded the letter, letting her arms drop as she digested its contents. Jason strode out of the hotel a moment later, his hat in place and his gloves in his hand. He nodded to her, then stopped short.

  “What’s wrong?” His face fell to concern, and he changed direction to intercept her instead of heading out the gate.

  Flossie shook her head and sighed. “I’ve had another letter from my sister.” She held up the letter in question.

  “Bad news?”

  She bit her lip and reluctantly nodded. “The factory where my parents work might go under, and Betsy hasn’t been feeling well.”

  “You’re sending them money?”

  She nodded. “All I can. I don’t need much myself.”

  “Do you need more?” he asked, low and tender.

  Flossie swallowed. Her odd thoughts were proving true. She didn’t have to ask for more money, he was offering it to her, right there, without further discussion. Stranger still, he did it with so little reservation that Samuel’s bitter
words turned back on her. One tiny twist, one gentle manipulation, and she could be queen of all she surveyed. She could have the hotel, make sure her family never wanted for anything. She could lord it over Samuel and make a name for herself in the world beyond Brynthwaite. Jason would let her as long as she kept him satisfied and kept his demons at bay.

  “No,” she said, too breathless for her liking. “I’m fine how things are now.”

  “You will let me know if there’s more I can do,” he said without any indication that he sensed her inner turmoil.

  “I will, sir.” She smiled.

  He nodded, and without another word, resumed his path to the gate and out into the street.

  Flossie caught her breath and pressed Betsy’s letter to her chest. She knew full well that she wasn’t as good as people assumed. What good girl would prostitute herself to half the male staff of Crestmont Grange, even if it was to help her family? The lure of power was a heady one. It was all too easy to see herself taking advantage of it, taking advantage of Jason. She could do it in a trice. The question was, would she?

  Matty

  The world was backwards when sleep brought ghosts with it and waking sent one into the arms of a dream. Matty pushed away the weight of sleep and took a breath, smiling to find herself in Lawrence’s arms, her back against his chest. His body was warm and solid and masculine. The scent of him surrounded her, settling her anxious heart and making her feel as though anything would be possible that day. She stretched and twisted to face him.

  “Good morning,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face.

  She reached her arm across his chest and nestled her head against his shoulder before replying, “Good morning.”

  This was the dream she wanted—the dream in which she was somebody’s beloved, wrapped in safety. They were both naked beneath a simple blanket, and her body remembered well the way Lawrence had touched and claimed her the night before. Nothing could be as blissful as his touch.

  It took a few more minutes for her mind to finish basking in the beauty of everything that she so miraculously had, all the joys that had filled her life for the past few weeks. Those weeks were the only time that really existed in her life.

  “What are you still doing in bed?” she asked, pushing herself to sit.

  Lawrence shrugged, still lying on his back. “Waiting for you to wake up.”

  The sweetness of his smile filled her with the longing to stay in bed even longer, but even dreams had their limits.

  “You have work to do,” she said, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing. “So do I.”

  Lawrence rose along with her, walking to his washbasin. “Work will wait. I would rather enjoy the pleasure of you a little while longer.”

  Matty blushed and hummed as she shrugged into the robe kept at the foot of the bed. “I think I like your way of seeing life,” she told Lawrence, crossing to where he was scrubbing his face.

  He paused long enough to allow her to kiss his cheek, then turned and captured her lips. What had she done to deserve such a kiss, such a man?

  “I’m rather partial to it myself,” he said, then reached for his shaving things.

  Matty laughed, so full of joy she might burst, and took the empty pitcher from his washstand. They needed water for the kitchen too, so she took a second, larger pitcher from the counter near the stove.

  “I’ll just go fetch some water and wash up,” she told Lawrence over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.

  “Don’t go too far,” he called after her. There was a twist of tension in his voice.

  “The pump is only just in back of the forge,” she told him, starting down.

  “Still, don’t go far,” he said.

  Matty smiled as she descended the stairs, slipping on Lawrence’s too-big shoes when she got to the workroom. She cleaned and swept the space every day now, keeping shelves organized and making sure Lawrence’s supplies never ran low, but the grit of work would never come off the floor entirely, just like the soot of the furnace could never be picked out from under Lawrence’s nails. She didn’t mind, though. Those hands were so talented, in more ways than one. A little soot was a sign of honesty.

  As she circled around to the back of the forge, Matty breathed in the fresh morning air. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, and not a single other human soul was nearby. Oliver hadn’t arrived yet, and aside from him, Matty could count the number of people who came out to visit Lawrence on one hand. His goods were in high demand, but he insisted on making deliveries in town rather than having people trespass in his world. The few people who had stayed at the forge for more than a few minutes since she’d arrived were travelers whose horses had thrown shoes and needed new ones immediately. That or Lawrence’s friends.

  It was a perfect way to live, as far as Matty was concerned. She reached the pump and primed it until water flowed. As soon as she filled the two pitchers, she shed her robe and splashed water over herself by way of a bath. To think of it, she was standing in the open wearing nothing at all. Anyone wandering by could see her, but the remoteness of the forge made it unlikely. She breathed in the complete freedom of the wide open.

  She knew, although she couldn’t have explained why, that very little of her life had been lived in the open before. Mathilda Wright, whoever that was, had lived a closed-up life. All of the memories that Matty fought so hard to avoid involved walls, rooms, narrow streets. They involved tight spaces and even tighter words. She wanted nothing to do with that life. She was happy where she was, Lawrence’s Matty.

  It didn’t take long to wash and wrap herself up in the robe again. The pitchers were heavier now that they were full, but carrying them back to the forge and up to Lawrence’s room was nothing. She liked the feeling of hard work, of effort. She enjoyed the satisfaction of learning to take care of the forge, and of cooking and cleaning for Lawrence. Other girls may have fussed over the hard work and the sameness of each new day, but Matty loved every minute of it.

  “Are you planning to go into town today?” Lawrence asked as she handed him a mug of tea at the breakfast table as she finished the meal.

  “Yes, Mary needs my help with the shopping.”

  She didn’t think anything of her plans, but a flash of concern pinched Lawrence’s face.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  She paused in the middle of fixing her own tea and glanced to him. “It’s just shopping. Mary knows the shops she needs to go to and what she needs to buy.”

  “Still,” Lawrence said, the disquiet not leaving his face. “It’s best not to stay out too long.”

  Prickles of worry raced down her back, but she couldn’t for the life of her imagine why. “It’s kind of you to be concerned,” she said, taking her mug to the table and sitting.

  “I am concerned.” He placed his warm hand over hers. “The world is a concerning place.”

  She tried to smile, but her expression folded into curiosity. “I never would have taken you as someone who worried about the world.”

  He must have taken his words to heart, because he laughed gently, his whole body relaxing. “Sometimes even a gypsy heathen like me needs to have a care for the world.”

  His words tickled something at the back of her mind. “Was it what your friend said at the hotel party?” she asked. “Rev. Albright? He warned you not to be too different.”

  Lawrence’s squeezed her hand, then withdrew and stood. “Rev. Albright kept me out of more trouble than I managed to get into as a child. I’ve always been inquisitive, just like Marshall has always been cautious and Jason has always been—” His lips twitched as he searched for the word. “—unconventional, to say the least. There were a lot of ways the three of us could have gone wrong. Too many ways. Intelligence, restlessness, and the need to prove oneself can get a young lad into a lot of trouble. We’re fortunate that we had Rev. Albright to steer us away from the worst of it.”

  “But you still took his warning to heart,” Matty chall
enged him.

  Lawrence took his time answering. “I did, but I have my reasons.”

  “What reasons?”

  He looked at her, watching her with a fire deep in his eyes that Matty couldn’t fathom. He was trying to protect her, but she didn’t know what from, only that he would keep her safe come hell or high water.

  At last, he stepped forward and kissed her. “Too many reasons to count, love.” He straightened. “I hear Oliver downstairs. I should get down there and give him his instructions for the day. Mr. Somersby wants me to make a gate for his garden like the one at The Dragon’s Head.”

  “You’d best get to work then,” Matty said, reaching out to touch his arm before he turned to go.

  Something didn’t sit right about his speech. She finished her tea, imagining what Lawrence must have been like as a child. She could see him as the kind of boy who turned over every rock and climbed every tree in pursuit of knowledge. It was odd to her that a man with such a quick mind had become a blacksmith, right there in the same town where he was raised, while his two closest friends left to pursue their fortunes as far away from home as one could get. She wondered what their childhood had been like to cause each to choose the path they had.

  She finished her tea and set about tidying the room. Neither she nor Lawrence were the messy sort, so within half an hour the bed was made, the breakfast things put away, and the floor swept. She changed into a clean dress for the day, then headed downstairs. Her work in the forge workshop didn’t take long. Lawrence was deeply involved in melting charge and preparing the mold for his gate when she finished sweeping and hung up her apron. His shirt was already drenched with sweat and clinging to his back. She waved to him as she headed out to the road leading to town.

  “Be careful,” he called to her as she went.

  “I will,” she vowed. She would take as much care as necessary to stay by his side, safe in his arms.

  The road leading into Brynthwaite wasn’t a long one, but it wound around hills, hugging the lake at one point. The spur where the forge stood fed into a more well-traveled road. A few people were already out at that time of morning. Matty smiled at another young woman walking the opposite way, an older couple in a wagon, and even nodded at Lawrence’s friend Jason as he rode by on a stately chestnut. He recognized her and said hello, but he had somewhere else to be. One of the women she passed as she grew closer to town frowned at her and refused to meet her eyes, but she didn’t think anything of it. She was too happy to be surrounded by neighbors and people who were at peace with themselves.