Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140)

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  Carefully raising her own spoon to her lips, Mariah assured herself she’d do her best in the task of tutoring. She’d been an apt student herself. No one had to tell her that catching a man of any consequence required diligent effort. And for now, as an educator, she’d surely be given a room in the manor and take her meals with the family—and Colin—every day. That certainly beat having to scrub floors as she’d feared she’d be forced to do as a bond servant. Yes. In her quest for Colin, she’d be diligent. Extremely diligent. After all, as her instructress, Miss Simkins, loved to remind her, Rose, and Lily, “A man has no need to buy a cow if he can get the milk for free.”

  She stifled a smile. Things were working out quite well. If only Mistress Barclay would smile, even once.

  Chapter 5

  Colin exhaled a slow breath of relief when his mother finally relaxed enough to sip at her soup. The meal continued in silence for a short span, until the soup bowls were taken away and the main courses served.

  Cutting into a slice of roast pork, Father looked up, his expression pensive. “Son, I was wondering if you’d heard anything of consequence regarding that business out in New York’s backcountry.” He forked the meat to his mouth.

  The change of subject could not have come at a more opportune time. “Not much.” Colin bit a chunk of his buttered bread and chewed it before elaborating. “The Six Nations are asking Governor Clinton to take action.”

  “The Iroquois tribes?” The older man left his fork suspended in the air. “What difference could it possibly make to them? No matter which nation sends traders in, they’ll still be able to exchange their furs for trade goods.”

  “Perhaps.” Colin cocked his head. “But they claim it’s tearing their tribal alliances apart.” He paused and took another bite.

  “Likely they’re just hoping to arrange a better deal, get more presents from the powers that be.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” He toyed with the fresh collard greens on his dish. “According to the word floating around, it sounds a bit more serious. The main chiefs made agreements to trade exclusively with the British as long as our soldiers will ally with them against their enemies—the northern tribes who made treaties with the French. Seems some of the more remote Iroquois villages feel it’s better to go with French strength and the northern tribes than to stick with English weakness.” He speared a chunk of meat and rested his hand beside his plate while he spoke. “They’re very aware of the French invasion into their territory. So rather than be overrun, they are aligning themselves with the French and the tribes that used to be their own sworn enemies.”

  “I see.” His father reached for another slice of bread and tore it in half before buttering it. “Sounds like there’s much more to the situation than I thought. If England wants to maintain that flourishing trade with the Indians, they’d better make a forceful showing of their own.”

  “Speaking of a flourishing trade,” Colin said, glancing down at Mariah, “the man who purchased Miss Harwood’s sister is in the fur business.”

  That got Mariah’s attention. Eyes wide, she returned his gaze while reaching for her water goblet.

  “The man made one astounding bid for her. Fifty pounds.” He switched his focus to his father. “Fifty pounds, without the blink of an eye. It silenced the rest of the bidding at once. Perhaps we went into the wrong business, Pa.”

  The older man chuckled. “That may very well be. But don’t forget, European fashions change every few years, and—”

  “Every season, Papa,” Victoria corrected airily.

  He gave his daughter a fatherly smile. “Even if fur muffs and hats never go out of fashion, the frontier may one day be trapped out, just as our coastal counties are. And as your mother likes to remind us, ships and goods may sink, but our land will still be here. Right, Cora?” He tipped his head toward her.

  She smiled in her superior way, but Pansy’s arrival with a laden tea tray precluded a response. “Pansy, dear, I believe we’ll have our tea and this evening’s dessert in the parlor.” She then turned to Mariah. “We had a harpsichord shipped from London a few months ago but as yet have not had the privilege of hearing it played well. I’m afraid too many years without an instrument have diminished my already limited skill. Perhaps you’d be so gracious as to treat us with a sampling more pleasing to the ear.”

  “ ’Twould be my honor, Mistress Barclay.”

  Colin held his breath. His mother was testing Mariah’s honesty. Was she truly accomplished in music, or had everything she’d said thus far been fabricated?

  Moments later, escorting Mariah through the wide double doorway leading into the parlor, he didn’t sense any trepidation in her. But his steps slowed as they drew near the large, intricate-looking instrument with dual keyboards.

  She smiled up at him, then patted his hand before moving away to smooth her palm across the polished wood surface. Turning back to his mother, who had taken a seat nearby, she dipped her head. “May I?” Without waiting for an answer, she dropped onto the harpsichord’s stool and adjusted her skirts around her. She poised her fingers above the keys, then looked up at the family. “It has been awhile for me, as well. But I shall do my best.”

  Colin cringed. That was not what he wanted to hear her say. Still, he remained near the instrument for support. Or possibly, her protection.

  Mariah ran her fingers up and down the keyboards as if she knew what she was doing, then stopped and looked over her shoulder at the others.

  What now?

  “I must say, it has lovely tone and seems to be in tune.”

  “Yes,” Mother replied. “I hired a man who came all the way from Philadelphia to set it to rights after it arrived.”

  “Philadelphia,” Mariah breathed. “And how far away is that? I have yet to learn where the various cities in the colonies are located.”

  She was stalling. Colin had no doubt.

  “He took a coastal packet,” his mother answered. “I can’t say how far it is overland.”

  “We have a map in our schoolroom,” Amy piped in. “You can look at that and see.”

  Colin stopped breathing. That’s right, a diversion. Probably just what Mariah was hoping for.

  “I shall look forward to checking the map,” Mariah said and rested her fingers on the keys again. Smiling, she began to play—beautifully play—a charming, lyrical tune unfamiliar to Colin.

  He drew his first real breath since entering the parlor.

  The family took their time enjoying their raspberries with coddled cream as a welcome evening breeze filtered through the lace curtains of the parlor’s open windows.

  “Miss Harwood?” Heather inquired in an airy voice.

  “What is it, dear?” Mariah interrupted her slow perusal of the room’s elegant furnishings and turned her attention to the quietest of Colin’s three sisters.

  “Would you please teach me to play the harpsichord like you do? I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in my life.”

  “Once you’re older,” Victoria cut in, “you’ll hear even prettier music. Last winter at the Christmas ball, the Tuckers hired a string quartet. They played wonderfully well. It was quite…romantic.” She closed her eyes with a dreamy smile.

  Colin removed his arm from where it rested against the fireplace mantel, his movement drawing Mariah’s gaze. “I agree with Heather. I’ve never heard our instrument played more beautifully.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Barclay,” Mariah said lightly, making sure she used his formal name, since his mother was watching them both closely. She raised her teacup and turned back to the girls. “Actually, I think it would be lovely if we were to create our own musical ensemble as my sisters and I did. One or two of you might also want to lend your talents to the violin or cello, or possibly the flute.”

  Excitement brightened Heather’s expressive blue eyes as she swung toward her parents. “Oh, Mother, could we?”

  For the first time, Mariah glimpsed the elegant olde
r woman’s expression soften with a warm smile. “You’ll have to ask your father, dear. Musical instruments tend to be quite costly.”

  “Papa?” Heather pleaded.

  His demeanor also gentled as he smiled at his charming middle daughter. “Of course, Heather, my sweet. Since I’ll be riding in to Alexandria tomorrow on tobacco business, I’ll stop by the music seller’s and see what I can find.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you.” Leaping to her feet, she went to her father and gave him a big hug.

  Never one to be outdone, Amy followed suit. “I want an instrument, too.”

  He laughed and included her in the embrace. Watching as he kissed the giggling girls, Mariah felt a pang of homesickness. Would she ever get another hug from her own papa? She hadn’t begun to realize until now the full price of leaving her homeland.

  “One for each of you,” Mr. Barclay said, his gaze including Victoria in the group. He then peered over his daughters’ heads. “Colin, I would appreciate your company on the morrow. It always helps to put forth a united front when dealing with buyers.”

  Colin shot a quick glance at Mariah before answering. “Of course. I’d like to challenge Quince Sherwood to a race, anyway. I think their filly Brighton Rose is ready for the test.”

  “I agree.” His father gave a nod.

  Colin will be gone all day tomorrow. Mariah’s uneasiness returned with the realization that she’d be left alone here with his mother. For the entire day.

  Outside, several plantation dogs began barking in chorus, adding to her distress.

  Colin strode to the open window and looked out into the dark, then turned back to Mariah. “I forgot. That must be the wagon bringing your trunks.”

  “Trunks?” His mother put her teacup aside and came to her feet. “How many trunks does the girl have?”

  “Three.”

  “So many?”

  “Yes. Which room shall we put them in?”

  The lady of the house paused no more than a second. “Put them in the room adjacent to Amy’s.”

  Colin tucked his chin in disbelief and stared at her. “You’re delegating Mariah—Miss Harwood—to the room with the brat?”

  “Yes.” She smiled quite triumphantly and sat back. Taking up her tea once again, she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. “It’s the perfect place for her.”

  Something was different. Mariah came awake to an unaccustomed stillness. Raising her lashes, she realized she was no longer at sea in a rolling, creaking ocean vessel, sharing a cramped cabin with several others. She had her own private bedchamber. She sighed and stretched languorously.

  No doubt this personal haven of hers was far more sequestered than Colin might have hoped. His very clever mother had placed her in a room that could only be reached by passing through Amy’s. And Amy’s door faced her parents’ room, with naught but a small second-floor sitting area separating them.

  So much for any untoward dalliances with the son and heir. If what Colin had said regarding his youngest sister proved to be true—that she was the family snitch—he would find a venture through the girl’s room to reach Mariah’s door much too intimidating. Yes, Mistress Barclay had been clever indeed.

  Mistress Barclay!

  Mariah sprang up to a sitting position. She was supposed to meet the woman downstairs first thing this morning. And just how first thing was it? Throwing back the covers, she padded over the braided rug to the window and moved aside a sheer curtain panel to check the angle of the sun.

  It had barely risen. Mariah sighed with relief. In the fragile morning light, she gazed down to dew-kissed fields of leafy plants and on to a line of trees edging the distant river that already reflected the sky’s growing brightness. Such a delightful change after weeks of viewing nothing but the vast expanse of the dark Atlantic, and before then, a city crowded with stone buildings and cottages that blocked the sight of the surrounding countryside.

  How pleasant it would be to simply wander outside and stroll the grounds in the cool of the morning, but alas, that was not to be. Turning back, Mariah grimaced at the sight of three overflowing clothing trunks that occupied so much of the limited space in her small room. They would have to stay there. The room lacked a wardrobe for her use. Since it had once housed a slave nanny when Amy had been an infant, the room was nowhere near as fancy as the family bedchambers. It contained only one small chest of drawers, which also served as her commode, and a wall rack with three hooks. Dreadfully inadequate for storing the contents of her trunks. Nevertheless, walls painted a soft green kept it from feeling gloomy, as did cheerful, apple-green calico curtains and a colorful counterpane. Accommodations could have been much worse, to be sure.

  Mariah poured water into her washbasin and made swift work of her morning toilette before rummaging through her things to find a no-nonsense, unembellished gown a tutoress might wear. Every one of her frocks sported an abundance of wrinkles, since she’d unfolded them last evening to show all her gowns to Victoria.

  Discarding several that appeared too grand, she wished for the first time in her life that she’d had a measure of Rose’s more sedate taste in clothing. Finally she chose a deep rose gown with front lacings. It would have to do. Besides, she could dress in it without assistance.

  After struggling into her layers of clothing, she brushed out her hair, then snatched it up and twisted the thick curls into a rather severe bun.

  Colin wasn’t the person she needed to impress today. Remaining here depended entirely upon his suspicious mother.

  La, how she wished Colin had been master of his own house.

  Amy remained sound asleep as Mariah tiptoed through the young girl’s large, pink-and-white bedroom and opened the outer door, hoping she’d risen before Mistress Barclay. Alas, the door across the sitting area stood wide open. Both of Colin’s parents must already be downstairs. And since Colin planned to leave with his father for Alexandria shortly, he must likely be up and about himself.

  The last thing Mariah wanted was to be abandoned by him on her first day in the household, but there was little hope of his changing his mind and staying behind. Naturally he’d want to live up to his responsibilities. Scooping up her skirts, she hurried to the staircase and descended, praying all the way down that some miracle would cause Colin to remain at home. If not, Lord, please make Mistress Barclay decide to allow me to stay here for the duration of my indenturement.

  Just as she reached the bottom landing, the older woman strolled from the parlor into the foyer looking exceptionally regal, even in her dressing gown of pale-blue peau de soie, her dark hair in a long, loose braid down her back. “Mariah. Come with me to the dining room. We can discuss matters over breakfast.” No smile softened the invitation.

  Mariah tamped down her unease. At least Colin’s mother planned to feed her. Not to be outdone by the matron, she straightened her own posture. After all, Colin would also be there.

  He was not.

  The long sideboard held a variety of foods and a tea service. Mariah noticed that some of the artfully arranged fare had already been removed. Obviously the men had enjoyed an early breakfast before leaving for their jaunt to the city.

  Without a word, the mistress served herself, so Mariah did the same. Then the older woman took her place from the night before and motioned for Mariah to take a nearby seat. Once they were both settled and Mariah lifted her cup to her mouth, Mistress Barclay leveled a pointed stare at her. “Shall we ask the Lord’s blessing?”

  Humiliated yet again by her out-of-practice manners, Mariah closed her eyes for a brief second, then returned the delicate teacup to its saucer and bowed her head.

  “Our most gracious Father,” the woman began, “we thank You once more for Your wondrous bounty and ask Your blessing upon it. Amen.” She then sat back and took up her own cup as she studied Mariah, causing her great uneasiness. Finally, she spoke. “I want you to know I am no fool.”

  Mariah cut a swift glance at her. How should one respond af
ter such a comment?

  A knowing smirk twitched a corner of the matron’s lips. “I know exactly why my son bought your papers, so let us not dance around the issue. The fact is, you are here, and while you are part of this household, I shall be charitable and give you a trial period, though I have serious doubts that you will work out.”

  Making an effort to remain composed, Mariah swallowed and met her gaze. “Madam, I assure you, I shall put forth my very best effort to educate your daughters in all the graces. You will not be disappointed. And if the current quality of their penmanship is not a credit to this fine home now, I promise it will be shortly.”

  Mistress Barclay dismissed the remark with a wave of one hand. “Indeed. Well, that can be hired. What I’m more interested in is a marked improvement in their diction. I cannot abide the lazy sliding of words so common in this area. My girls must be able to mingle successfully with those of the Bay states as well as those of British society.”

  Confident that she had no lack of expertise in those elements, Mariah formulated an apt round of praise for her abilities, but the woman gave her no opportunity to utter a word in her defense.

  “My husband and I are adamant that our daughters marry respected merchants or men of other successful enterprises. I myself would not be adverse to a man of the cloth, as long as he happens to be well placed.”

  “I see.”

  “No, I don’t believe you do. City dwellers are more interested in monetary dowries than those which include land, and we do not plan to sacrifice even an acre of our property for the purpose of securing advantageous marriages for our daughters.” She spread marmalade on a triangle of toasted bread and nibbled a corner of it.

  “As mentioned in the conversation around the table last eve,” Mariah inserted, “the land is here to stay. And lovely land it is, I must avow.”

  The older woman’s expression hardened. “Let me be clear on this. My husband married me against his family’s wishes. I brought no land to the family, you see, only the profit from a ship in my father’s merchant fleet. After only a few years, the vessel sank in a storm. You, of course, do not possess even that much. I will not allow a marriage between you and Colin, no matter what. Not even should you turn up with child.”