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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  Mariah gasped, lurching to her feet.

  Mistress Barclay caught her hand. “Do sit down again, my dear. I do apologize for being so…blunt. However, it is imperative that you understand how serious I am about this.” She paused briefly. “Your main duty, while you are here, will of course be tutoring the girls in their lessons. You will have one day off each week. I think that should be Sunday—after you have attended services with us.”

  Under any other circumstance, Mariah would have left the table and stormed out the door. But where could she go? All her worldly belongings were upstairs, and by law the Barclays did own her services for the next four years. Four years. She drew a defeated breath and sank back down on her chair. “The girls’ speech. I suppose if you want them to be accepted everywhere, they’ll need to know at least a smattering of French. Have they had any instruction in that language?”

  “No, they have not.”

  Mariah let out a humorless chuckle. “Then, it appears I have my work cut out for me.”

  Surprising Mariah, the stern matron smiled. “Perhaps you will turn out to be worth the money my son paid for you after all.” Then the smile vanished. “But make no mistake. If you betray me in the slightest way, I will sell you to the first old wretch I see.”

  Chapter 6

  Early morning light added translucent beauty to the verdant countryside on the way to Alexandria, sprinkling dewy diamonds over wildflowers and among the tall grasses dancing on the breeze. Riding beside his father’s dapple gray stallion, Colin tried to compose in his mind the perfect words that would secure the older man’s commitment to the cause…that of convincing Mother to retain Mariah’s services for the next four years. He discarded idea after idea as weak and sought a better approach to the subject.

  An unexpected laugh broke his concentration. He raised his gaze to the fair-haired man at his side, who shook his head, still chuckling. “You’ve certainly managed to make things challenging for our little Amy.”

  What a strange comment. Colin reined Paladin closer to his father’s mount. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “That lass you brought home.” His shrewd blue eyes focused on Colin. “What could Amy possibly bring home that could top a new bond servant?”

  Colin frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “You know as well as I do, son, that the little squirt makes it her life’s ambition to try and outdo you, outrun you, outrace you on horseback, even outeat you—”

  “Only if the food is somethin’ she particularly likes,” Colin inserted on a chuckle of his own. “But I do catch your meanin’. I hope Mother doesn’t find out that the little imp jumped off the edge of the waterfall into the creek last week. It seems that Old Samuel, our horse groomer, told her I’d done it when I was her age.”

  His pa nodded thoughtfully as the two mounts plodded along. “I’ve always been careful not to let Amy get wind of all the critters you used to tote home, especially after the opossum she sneaked into the house last month. In its frenzy to escape, that varmint shredded one of the drapes in my study. Needless to say, your mother was in high dudgeon over that episode.”

  “Our little snitch does manage to get herself into piles of trouble, that’s for sure.” Grinning as a few of Amy’s escapades came to mind, Colin felt his humor wane, and he turned serious. “The difference is, I did not bring Mariah home on a mere whim.”

  Pa shot him a look of disbelief—one that made Colin reiterate his position.

  “Well, perhaps it was a whim at first. I’ll readily admit it. But as she and I conversed during the journey home, I began to see what a perfect fit she is.”

  “You mean, felt her perfect fit, I daresay. Otherwise you would’ve done the logical thing and had her ride on the wagon with her luggage.”

  Colin cut him a sidelong glance. “If you were my age and that had been Mother, would you have consigned her to a tediously long, bumpy wagon ride?”

  His father thought for a moment. “That’s not a fair question. However, since you brought up the subject, I certainly would not have taken such liberties with a woman like your mother unless I’d planned to wed her—even if that Puritan blood of hers would have permitted such action.” He eyed Colin. “May I ask if that is your intention for this young, penniless English maiden? This indentured servant you’ve thrust upon us?”

  “Well, I—” A low-hanging branch necessitated Colin’s having to duck beneath it, a most welcome diversion. He was nowhere near ready to answer his father’s query. He watched a squirrel scamper up a tree as they passed by.

  “I suggest you give the matter some serious thought, son. You know your mother will fight you tooth and nail, should that be the case. Even worse, she’ll send the girl packing someplace where you’ll never be able to find her. She’s that determined for you to marry one of our local belles—hopefully, one with her own strict religious upbringing. Constance Montclaire, for example.” A chuckle rumbled from his chest.

  Colin had no doubt his father adored his mother, despite all her rigid New Englander ideas. And Colin would settle for no less than that kind of affection himself. “Constance may be Mother’s choice, but she’s not mine. I’d rather remain a bachelor all my days than marry without love.”

  Abruptly, Father reined his horse to a stop, prompting Colin to do the same. “You couldn’t possibly be in love with Miss Harwood after just one day. The very idea would be absurd.”

  Pa had really put him on the spot. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems I recall you telling us all that you fell in love with Mother the first time you laid eyes on her.”

  “That was different. She and I met at a Christmas ball in Baltimore. She’d come down from Boston to visit a cousin. Her very clothing attested to her family’s wealth.”

  Not to be dissuaded, Colin pressed on. “I also considered Mariah’s attire to be exquisite. She was elegance itself, not only in her appearance but her bearing, as well.”

  “Perhaps, my boy, but my lady was standing in the ballroom of a fine manse. Your young woman was perched on an auction block. Forgive me if I point out the obvious difference.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, sir. All I ask is that you make certain Mother gives Mariah a fair chance to prove herself. If you’d met her sister Rose—she could have been Mother, the way she pinned me down with her questions and her insistence that Mariah continue her religious instruction.”

  “So she believes the girl still needs some instruction, then.”

  Colin let out a weary breath. “No. It wasn’t like that at all. Rose Harwood was deeply worried about handing her sister over to a man she’d never met. She had no way of knowing my true character, my motives. She was concerned for her sister’s welfare.”

  “No doubt.” After a moment’s pause, Father relaxed his tight lips and nudged his mount forward again. “Very well. You’ve made a good case. I’ll do my best to corral your mother. We’ll take it one day at a time. Let’s just hope Miss Harwood doesn’t say or do anything to make your mother determined to sell her to the first reasonable bidder before we get home.”

  Deriving encouragement from the older man’s response, Colin breathed a bit easier. “Thank you. I’ll appreciate having your help with Mother, sir. That’s all I can ask.” For a moment he was tempted to add that it was his name on the indenturement papers, not his mother’s. Neither she nor his father could legally sign off on the documents. But Colin wasn’t ready to offer any kind of ultimatum just yet, or draw a line in the sand over a lass he’d barely met. Still, at this very minute he wished Mariah was sitting on Paladin in front of him with that silly feather flopping in his face and that he was smelling the delicious, slightly briny eau de Mariah.

  He exhaled a long breath and changed the subject. “How do you feel about posting a letter to your friend Yarnell Lewis in Williamsburg after Quince Sherwood and I set a date for a race? I heard his horse made a good showing last month in Charles Town.”

  Mariah spent most of the da
y in the schoolroom at the end of the upstairs hall, assessing the education her three charges had acquired and compiling a list of the various texts she would need in the months to come. Mistress Barclay popped in numerous times doing her own assessing—of Mariah. It was very unnerving, since the only time Mariah had done anything akin to teaching school was when she’d helped her younger siblings, Lily and Tommy, with their reading and sums before they set off to Master Gleason’s classes.

  Now, thank goodness, the school day was over. Mariah had scarcely announced that fact before Amy raced madly out of the house and down to the stables, her mother’s reprimands trailing after her to no avail.

  But most gratifying, the mistress of the house had seemed pleased by what she’d seen. She almost smiled when she entered the schoolroom as the other girls took their leave. “That seems to have gone well.” She glanced down at Mariah’s desk. “I assume that is a list of the supplies and books the girls will be needing.”

  “Yes, mistress.” A slight pause. “However, there is one thing in particular that I need, if I may be so bold.”

  “And it is…?”

  “I’ve not had a bath since I set foot on that ship, only a few basins of seawater to freshen up with on occasion. If it is not too much trouble, would it be possible—”

  The older woman blanched. “I have been remiss. I should have thought of that myself. I shall have Lizzie and Ivy see to it at once.”

  “Thank you most kindly.”

  An hour later, feeling more refreshed than she had in weeks, Mariah found herself in Victoria’s room demonstrating a new hairstyle on Heather’s smooth, golden tresses. “Watch, Victoria. The hair has to be brought up to the very top of her head, quite high, or it will begin to sag.”

  The fifteen-year-old stepped nearer for a better view as her sister sat at the dressing table, watching their reflection in the large oval mirror.

  “Now, twist it round and round but not too tight,” Mariah said, exaggerating her movements a bit so the procedure could easily be observed. “When it’s all twisted, except for the last eight or ten inches—which I’ll thread through to the center and curl—it must be secured with pins and a pretty comb. Like this.”

  “Even if Ah do all that, Ah vow it shan’t look like yers,” Victoria said in a slow drawl.

  “I vow it shan’t look like yours,” Mariah echoed, more crisply.

  Heather giggled. “You are as bad as Mother!”

  “And I shall continue to be until the two of you start speaking like the proper young ladies you are.” Suddenly feeling she sounded more like Rose than herself, Mariah drew a surprised breath before returning her attention to Heather’s hair. “Once I have everything secure, I shall very carefully catch a few tendrils here and there to bring down in curls to tease the back of her neck. And of course, I’ll do the same in front of her ears to soften the look around her lovely face.”

  “I don’t have a lovely face.” Heather spoke barely above a whisper and lowered her lashes.

  Mariah reached out and lifted the girl’s chin with the edge of her index finger. “Now, how can you possibly say such a thing? Take a good look at yourself—those gorgeous azure eyes, those rosebud lips, and exquisite cheekbones. In just a few years, they’ll definitely be finer than mine—and finer than a lot of other girls’ your age.”

  “Do you really think so?” The twelve-year-old met Mariah’s gaze in the mirror.

  “Absolutely. In fact, I daresay your father will have to hold the young men off with a brace of pistols—”

  Heather giggled.

  “Just as I’m sure he’s doing for Victoria right now.”

  The humor in Victoria’s face evaporated. “I hardly think so. The one person I wish would admire me still thinks of me as a little girl.”

  “I know who that is,” Heather singsonged.

  “Hush!” Her sister silenced her with a frown.

  “It’s Tuck. Don’t try to deny it.”

  Mariah made a mental note of the information. Ah yes, the dashing young gentleman she and Colin had met on the road yesterday—the one on his way to visit another young lady.

  Victoria averted her blushing face but managed an angry retort. “I said, hush! Or I’ll tell about you know what.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Mariah rolled her eyes. “And I, for one, care very little how much you girls argue, as long as you do it with precise diction.”

  “I say bravo to that.” Their mother swept into the room, already dressed for the supper hour. She looked more elegant than ever in a sapphire taffeta gown with a ruffle at the hem. The sleeves of her gown dripped with lace at the elbows.

  “Miss Harwood is showing us how to create the latest hairstyles from England,” Victoria blurted, obviously hoping to distract her mother from whatever she might have overheard.

  The lady of the house moved closer and eyed Mariah’s work. “Yes, that is quite nice, Heather. It makes you appear six months older, at least.” A teasing smile tugged at her lips.

  “Does she not?” Mariah piped in as she continued pinning. “Back home, my sister Lily and I spent hours and hours practicing hairstyles on each other.”

  “Oh?” Mistress Barclay arched her slender brows. “You did not have a maid who dressed you?”

  Mariah could see no reason for anything other than the truth. Lies were too hard to keep track of. “No, ma’am. We had only a housekeeper. But anytime we needed help with some little thing, she was kind enough to assist us.”

  The older woman offered one of her polite yet humorless smiles. “Well, you might be happy to learn we have two upstairs maids and two downstairs, plus Eloise our cook, and of course, Benjamin, the butler.”

  “You are truly blessed.” Mariah flashed an equally practiced smile, then turned to Victoria. “Would you please fetch the curling iron from the brazier?”

  The three Barclays watched as Mariah deftly curled Heather’s top locks and the scattering of tendrils, making them as springy as Victoria’s natural curls with the aid of the heated iron. Heather bobbed her head back and forth, a huge grin displaying her perfect teeth. “I do look older, don’t I? And not just by six months.”

  Mistress Barclay’s smile softened. “Yes, my darling. You shall be the belle of the evening.” She turned to Mariah. “Do instruct Lizzie on the latest styles. I’m having some neighborhood ladies over for tea in a few days, and it would be great fun to show off a bit.”

  “Of course. I’d be pleased to.”

  “Oh, and do hurry, girls. The men arrived home a few minutes ago, and Eloise will be serving supper promptly at seven.” Mistress Barclay’s normally pursed lips twitched into a tiny smile. “The cook declared, with a shake of that finger of hers, ‘Ah don’t wants no repeat o’ las’ night, neithah.’ ” That said, the lady of the manor turned and sashayed out of the room.

  The girls bubbled into laughter, and Mariah joined in. She couldn’t believe the perfect southern accent the mistress had mimicked, considering her dislike of a lazy drawl. The elegant lady of the house actually had a sense of humor.

  The day had gone so much better than she’d believed possible this morning. Now Colin was back. Who knew what wonders the evening might hold?

  “Victoria, do take Heather’s place. And Heather, be a dear and set the curling iron to cool. Victoria’s curls need very little help. We’ve got to hurry.”

  Chapter 7

  Colin would have given his right arm to know how Mariah had fared with his mother during the day. Calling on every ounce of self-control he possessed, he somehow managed to effect an air of disinterest as he, Amy, and his parents waited in the parlor for the English beauty and his other sisters to come downstairs.

  Mother let out a huff. “Amy, do stop fidgeting with your hair bow. It’s quite annoying.”

  “It’s too tight,” the wiggle worm replied.

  “That, young lady, is your fault. You should have returned from the stables sooner.” She rose from the settee and walked behin
d her daughter’s chair to retie the blue ribbon.

  With his mother’s attention diverted, Colin took the opportunity to step away from the mantel and move closer to the doorway, where he had a better view of the staircase.

  “Eldon, dear, how did things go in town today? You didn’t mention the results of your trip.”

  His father drew a deep breath, obviously enjoying the delectable aromas emanating from the dining room, where large, covered serving dishes of hot food lined the sideboard, awaiting the arrival of the family at the table. “Fine. It appears we’ll be getting a good price for both the tobacco and the grain.”

  “Splendid. And you planned to go to the music seller’s. Were you able to find any instruments for the girls while you were there?”

  He opened his mouth to answer but closed it again as the rapid patter of footsteps sounded on the stairs. He stood from his chair and followed Colin out into the foyer.

  Heather flew into their father’s arms first, breathless with excitement. “Papa! Did you buy me a violin or a flute?”

  “We’ll talk about music over supper, my darling.”

  Victoria descended at a more sedate pace, followed by Mariah, who met Colin’s gaze with a radiant smile.

  She looked as pleased to see him as he was to see her. Attired in peach taffeta adorned with delicate lace, her hair drawn back in a cluster of dark curls, the young woman’s incredible beauty never ceased to amaze and enthrall him. Returning her smile, he took several steps toward the stairs.

  Suddenly her smile lost its luster as she darted a glance beyond him.

  Colin didn’t need to turn to know his mother had made an appearance. He saw it in Mariah’s stilted expression. Sensing they were being watched, he veered slightly and reached a hand up to Victoria. “You look very pretty this evening, little sis.”