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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  Lost in her thoughts, she felt Amy’s small hand search through the mass of ruffled skirts to find hers. The child held tight, a tremor revealing her trepidation that her parents’ wrath would soon crash down on her. But Mariah had no doubt who the real target would be. Herself. And there was nowhere to run to escape her fate.

  Thank Providence for Heather, sweet Heather. Thrilled with her new flute and completely oblivious to the tension in the air, the girl wore a bright smile as if this day had been the finest of her entire life. She removed the instrument from its case and held it reverently in her hands. “Show me again where to put my fingers, Miss Harwood.” She gazed expectantly up at Mariah.

  Wishing the twelve-year-old had not drawn the unwelcome attention to her, Mariah did not dare a glance across to the elder Barclays but drew a nervous breath and took the silver tube from Heather. “Like this.” She raised it and positioned each of her fingers slowly and deliberately on the proper keys, one at a time, and held them for Heather to study. Then, forcing a small smile, she handed the instrument back.

  Heather did her best to do as she’d been shown and nearly got it right.

  “Splendid. You’ve almost got it.” More than aware the Barclays were watching, she struggled to ignore the pair as she gently adjusted Heather’s little finger. She spoke as quietly as possible over the creaking and crunching of the landau as it rolled along. “Practice lifting up from each key one at a time until the movement feels natural.”

  Glad for the chance to divert her attention away from the older couple for a bit, she watched Heather work on her fingering. But when the girl raised the flute to her lips and took a breath, Mariah quickly stayed her with a hand. “I think ’twould be best if you just practice moving your fingers. We’ll work on tones at home.”

  Mistress Barclay broke the stilted silence. “Yes, daughter. I cannot abide unnecessary noise. I have a beastly headache.”

  Knowing the woman’s last comment was directed at her, Mariah cringed as a dreadful sense of foreboding chilled her whole being. This is what Colin had left me to: his vengeful mother. How could someone who had avowed his deep love forsake me like this?

  For several days after their arrival at home, Mariah was ill at ease, waiting for Colin’s mother to lash out at her, pile on extra chores, deprive her of privileges, or administer some form of punishment. But to her utter amazement, Mistress Barclay’s veiled innuendo on the homeward ride from Alexandria never amounted to anything. As the next couple of weeks passed, the woman seemed quite relaxed, and though not overtly friendly toward Mariah, she acted as if nothing were amiss. At first Mariah thought the woman’s courteous attitude was the result of her own extra efforts to be especially helpful and polite. It finally dawned on her that with Colin separated from her, there was nothing for his mother to find fault with.

  She continued her duties as tutoress, instructing the girls in academics and all the female arts, plus giving them their music lessons. Of course, she often found herself obligated to ride with Amy as bribery for practicing the violin. Though Mariah begrudged the time spent riding horseback, she discovered that chasing after Colin’s youngest sister was helping her to become a rather accomplished horsewoman. He would surely be surprised to discover her new skill when he returned. If he returned.

  But no matter how busy her daytime hours were, the solitary nights were hard to endure, when she was alone in her tiny room and thoughts of Colin held free rein in her mind. She missed him so and wished desperately that he would send word to let her know she was still in his thoughts, especially since she’d heard that the most stylish young ladies in the colonies resided in Philadelphia and New York. He’d given his father three pounds to give to Mariah for pin money, and though she appreciated his thoughtfulness and generosity, she would have much preferred a letter from him.

  To her knowledge, no correspondence had arrived for his parents either, unless Mistress Barclay had kept silent about hearing from her son and had seen to it that any missive to Mariah was destroyed. The woman did seem to have a certain smugness in her demeanor. Mariah wondered if his mother was still concocting secret plans that would keep Colin from returning to the plantation for a very long time.

  Pleasant weather and calm seas had enabled the coastal packet to make good time as it carried Colin and his horses around the peninsula and up to Philadelphia. Aware that all types of business was conducted on the wharves, he was gratified by the considerable interest Paladin and Queen’s Lace drew during their boarding in Alexandria and disembarking at the “red brick city.” No sooner had he brought them down the gangplank, when two wealthy Philadelphia merchants approached him and agreed to arrange a horse race to take place within the month.

  Colin spent the following three weeks ensconced in a nicely appointed guest room in the elegant brick manse of his uncle Matthew Lewis, a prominent lawyer. The bed with its jewel-toned coverlet was more comfortable than his bed at the plantation, and the rich furnishings were the best money could buy, but it wasn’t like home.

  Uncle Matt and Aunt Harriet loved to give and attend all kinds of dinners and extravagant events, and this evening the family was invited to a summer party at the home of one of Uncle Matthew’s colleagues. Colin would have preferred another quiet evening to himself but knew it would be impolite to expect his relatives to go to the affair without him. Even if he begged off, they’d want an explanation, and he wasn’t ready to provide any personal details.

  Buttoning his burgundy silk waistcoat, he moved to the wooden mirror stand and checked his reflection in the long, oval looking glass to make sure his attire had been pressed neatly and fit well. He let out a deep, slow breath. Nothing fit as well as Mariah did when she was on his arm. How empty his days seemed now that he could no longer see her stunning face, hear her lyrical voice. The past weeks seemed an eternity, and time still stretched out before him like an unending road.

  A knock sounded on the door, and his cousin Paul barged in without waiting for an invitation. Tall and slim, at twenty-six he retained a boyishness about him that glinted in his smoke-colored eyes and lopsided grin. “Do hurry, old man. We’re going to be late. I want to get my bid in for as many minuets as possible with Evangeline O’Hara. Eve’s sure to be the prettiest girl there.”

  “Is that right?” Colin made an effort to sound interested.

  “Rather. So do me a favor and don’t turn on your charms around her. You have my blessing when it comes to any of the other belles. Just leave Evangeline to me.” He leaned to peer into the looking glass and ran fingers through his already neat light brown hair.

  Colin gave him a pat on the shoulder and lapsed into the drawl he was trying hard to overcome. “Fear not, cousin-mine. My romancin’ days have come to an end. I’ve already found the one girl for me. She happens to be the most beautiful woman in the entire world.”

  “Surely not.” Paul guffawed. “How would you even know that until you’ve seen them all?”

  The words were like cold water splashed in Colin’s face. He had to admit Paul was right. There must be any number of young misses as delectable as Mariah—ones with sufficient wealth to satisfy even his mother. Was his attraction to the English lass merely because she was the always-tempting forbidden fruit? He cut a speculative glance up at his cousin. “You make a good point, old chap. What are we waiting for? Let’s go and see what the fair city of Philadelphia has to offer.”

  Six weeks. Six long weeks, and still no word from Colin. Was he alive or dead? Had she the slightest idea where to write, Mariah would have gladly put quill to paper if only to let him know what a thoughtless, cavalier blackguard he was. He wouldn’t have had to extol his undying love for her in a letter were he concerned his mother might read it. But surely he could send a word or two—anything to let Mariah know he still thought about her.

  Such morose, frustrating thoughts assailed her as she and Victoria stood on the veranda watching the girl’s two beaus riding up the lane. In anticipation of the late afte
rnoon ride, Tori had donned a gown of delicate blue lawn that accented the hue of her eyes. Mariah, on the other hand, continued to play down her own appearance by wearing her dull teacher’s gray and capturing her curls in a tight bun. She didn’t want to draw attention from the young belle.

  Amy was already down at the stables. She’d hiked her skirts and sprinted to tell Old Samuel to saddle their mounts the moment Tuck and Edward came into view. She never missed an opportunity to go riding, whether her young presence was welcome or not. But then, her mother considered the child as suitable a chaperone as Mariah, probably even more so.

  Peering again down the tree-shaded lane, Mariah cast a more assessing gander at the young men. It would only take her a little cunning look here, a bit of flattery there, to whisk one of them away from Victoria. Like Colin, Tuck was heir to his plantation, not the head of the household…not as promising as Mariah would like, while Edward was the son of a wealthy merchant and often bragged about his family’s eight cargo ships. As Mistress Barclay said, ships could sink, taking with them an abundance of goods. But a rich family like the Rochesters could easily replace a lost vessel. Were Mariah to be presented to Edward’s parents properly, without mention of that bothersome bond, she just might be accepted by the family….

  Beside her, Victoria raised her arm in a jaunty wave. Then, completely dismissing everything Mariah had taught her, she bounded down the steps and out to the curved drive to greet her callers before they even reined their mounts to a stop.

  Mariah rolled her eyes and glided out with practiced grace to meet the men. Sorely tempted to pick one of them, she figured it might be best to concentrate on Edward, since he wasn’t such a close friend of Colin and his family.

  However, as both suitors dismounted in haste, vying to be the first to reach Victoria, the girl’s happy laughter tore through Mariah. Tempting as it might be to lure one of the young men away, she knew she couldn’t do it. Tori had been such a shy, lovesick lass when Mariah first arrived. It would be unbearable to watch her crawl back into that sad state again—especially after so many hours had been spent teaching her the art of courtship.

  “Good afternoon.” She offered a polite nod as she reached the lively threesome. “Amy and I will be tagging along on today’s ride, but we shouldn’t bother you.”

  Tuck flashed his usual flirty grin. “Rest assured, your company never bothers us.”

  “Nevertheless—” She slanted an assuring look to Tori as they started for the stables. “I shall spend the greater portion of the ride chasing after our adventurous Amy, in all likelihood, so I’ll trust that Victoria will be safe with you two.”

  Edward’s freckled hand went to his chest. “But of course. I, for one, wouldn’t dream of allowing the smallest mishap to befall the lovely lass.”

  “Splendid.” Mariah lengthened her steps to go ahead of the others. Suddenly she realized she was turning into Rose, her responsible older sister. The spinster.

  Shocked by the idea, Mariah scoffed inwardly. Why, had she not just finished writing out a number of invitations to a horse and phaeton race the family planned to host on the first Saturday in September? Surely there would be an abundance of young men there to participate in the event. Before that day was over, she might possibly find another suitor for herself. One Mistress Barclay would approve of—and perhaps even help her to secure!

  Mariah glanced over her shoulder at Amy, who lagged behind. The child always dawdled when coming home after a run on her horse, but then, the girl was permitted to straddle her pony rather than sit on a rib-jouncing sidesaddle. Mariah frowned at her. “Do hurry!”

  The eight-year-old gave a sullen shrug and heeled Patches into a trot to catch up.

  Victoria and her beaus had returned to the stables a good ten minutes ago. Mariah knew if she and Amy didn’t make haste, there wouldn’t be time enough for them to wash off the horse smell and change for supper.

  “There’s Mr. Scott.” Reining her pony alongside Mariah’s Thoroughbred mare, Amy shouted and waved at him. “We’re comin’, Mr. Scott.”

  Helping Samuel rub down the horse Victoria had ridden, the trainer paused and waved back, and Mariah suddenly wondered if the man had a wife. No one had ever mentioned one.

  She maneuvered her mount closer to Amy’s as they rode along the path between two plowed-under tobacco fields. “I’m curious. Mr. Scott has never said anything about having a wife living here. Does he have one, perchance?”

  “Huh-uh. I think he had one, but she died or somethin’. If he wanted one, though, he could get one real easy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “ ’Cuz I heard some of the widows at church talkin’ about what a good catch he’d be, what with him makin’ so much money, and all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Amy cut her a flippant look. “Oh, that’s right. You wasn’t here last spring when ol’ Mr. Dumfries came ridin’ in here big as you please. He offered Mr. Scott twice what Poppy was payin’ him to come work for him. Mr. Scott’s the best horse trainer in the whole blamed colony. Maybe even all the colonies.”

  How interesting. “I see. Offered so much money, I’m surprised he didn’t take the position.”

  “He prob’ly would’a, but I ran up to the house and told Poppy what was goin’ on. He came down an’ offered Mr. Scott the same money if he’d stay here.”

  “La, he must be a highly valued man.” Mariah nudged her mare forward again, viewing the redheaded trainer through more enlightened eyes.

  As they approached the stables, Mr. Scott laid aside the curry brush he’d been using and strode over to help Mariah dismount. When he reached up to her, she offered her brightest smile as she came down into his arms. “Thank you,” she gushed in her most pleasant voice. “I do hope we haven’t kept you and Samuel from your meals.”

  “Not at all. Pansy doesn’t bring our meals until after the family has been served.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.” It dawned on her that she knew very little about the workings of the plantation because she spent the bulk of her days in the upstairs schoolroom. “Speaking of supper, Amy, dear, run to the house and wash up, and I’ll be along shortly.”

  Mr. Scott moved to the mare’s neck and patted it as he gathered the reins.

  “She’s a fine riding horse, is she not?” Mariah ventured. “But watching the gentle way you work with all the stock, getting them to do your bidding, ’tis no wonder.”

  His green eyes swerved from the animal to her. “That’s the trick, young lady. Firm but gentle handling, and a lot of patience, of course.”

  For a split second, she thought the man was going to smile. And though he did not, she kept hers from faltering. “I know just what you mean. Amy, too, needs lots and lots of patience, plus a firm but gentle hand.”

  He gazed after the girl as she ran toward the house, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as a slight grin softened his guileless features. Mariah wouldn’t have described him as handsome, exactly, with that long face and slightly mocking mouth. Yet there seemed a compelling quality about him and an honesty not to be overlooked. “She’s a corker, all right.” His smile faded as he turned back to Mariah. “You’re a teacher, Miss Harwood. What did you think of the sermon on 1 Peter chapter 3 last Sunday?”

  “Oh, that.” Mariah’s smile evaporated. “Obviously some husband must have lodged a complaint about his wife.”

  The normally serious-mannered man burst out with a belly laugh. “Actually I was referring to the promise the passage contained: ‘For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers.’ ”

  A rush of warmth rose over her cheeks. “Mercy me. I mostly remembered the part where wives aren’t supposed to dress pretty but let their inner beauty shine out. Oh, and let us not forget the part about being in subjection to their husbands.” She grimaced.

  Mr. Scott’s lips broadened into a cordial smile, and a spark of humor in his eye added a certain degree of a
ppeal that changed her mind about his not being handsome. “You must not have heard the command where the husband is to give honor to his wife and treat her gently because she’s the weaker vessel, and how they’re heirs together in the grace of life.”

  “I’m afraid I missed that part. The third chapter of 1 Peter, you say? I shall read it again this eve before I retire.” She took a step backward. “I’d best go now and make sure Amy doesn’t get into any more mischief before supper.”

  He chuckled. “Good luck.”

  On her way up the path to the manse, Mariah couldn’t dismiss the trainer from her mind. Was he in his own quiet way hinting that he desired her? Perhaps even wanted her for his wife? If not, why had he brought up that business about husbands and wives being heirs together in…what was it? Oh yes, heirs together in the grace of life.

  Curious to see if he was watching her walk away, she glanced back toward the stable. He was gone.

  Just as well, she told herself. But still…

  Chapter 17

  A soft September breeze stirred the lace underpanels on the open windows, and the sweet scent of late-blooming roses from the garden floated across the dining room.

  “How sad,” Amy mused, loading a huge amount of scrambled egg onto her fork. “Colin won’t be here to race his phaeton. Poppy will have to drive it, and he drives as slow as a turtle. We’ll lose for sure.” Shoving the egg into her mouth, she spewed out another whining complaint from around the food. “And it’s our race.”

  “Amy, really!” Victoria shook her head in disgust. “You managed to splatter egg all over the tablecloth.”

  Witnessing the exchange between the sisters at the dining table, Mariah hid her grin behind her napkin. The little imp was forever being taken to task for one thing or another. But nothing could dampen Mariah’s spirits this day. After all, she’d lived the greater part of her life at the resort of Bath, where public balls or plays were scheduled for almost every evening during the season. Compared to her existence back home, life on a plantation in the colonies was decidedly more dull. Except today. Today every family of consequence within twenty miles would be coming for the races. A dinner would follow, and later in the evening, a ball. The kitchen slaves had been cooking and baking for days, filling the house with marvelous, mouthwatering aromas. The Barclays had even hired a string quartet from Baltimore to perform throughout the afternoon and evening. It was certain to be a lively event.