On a shopping excursion into Alexandria with the womenfolk, Mariah had purchased an exquisite silk lace fan from France to go with her violet satin evening gown, and she had every intention of using that fan to its best flirting advantage. Smiling to herself, she picked up her cup of tea and took a sip. After all, it was Colin’s fault for not having deigned to write a single line to her since his departure weeks ago. In essence, he himself had abandoned her to her fate.
“Mariah?”
Glad that the mistress had given the girls permission to use her Christian name at last, she met Heather’s eyes across the table. “Yes?”
“Mother said me and Tori could play that piece you taught us durin’ the dinner hour. I do hope we don’t make any mistakes.”
“Tori and I, dear.” All this harping on drawls and proper grammar. Would it ever make a difference? “You’ve played that number flawlessly several times. Just pretend I’m the only one listening to you, and you’ll both be fine.”
Victoria released a sigh. “I do hope you’re right. I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Tuck. Or anyone else, for that matter, but especially Tuck.”
As Mariah had suspected, Victoria was more interested in Dennis Tucker than she was in the merchant’s son. If the mistress of the household knew that for certain, she surely wouldn’t be happy. But considering the number of guests due to arrive today, perhaps Tori’s interest would shift to someone entirely different. At her age, anything was possible, and the strawberry-pink gown of ruffled lawn she’d be wearing this evening would set off her feminine assets to perfection. A whole raft of young men might be drawn to her side.
Mariah swept a glance over her three charges as she forked the remaining egg on her plate. “We’d better finish eating so we can go upstairs and dress for the day. People will likely begin to arrive within the hour.”
Amy tucked her chin and peered at Mariah through her silky lashes. “You must know if I get prettied up this early, I’ll just be all dirty and mussed up by noon.”
As if she’d been hovering out of sight eavesdropping on their conversation, Mistress Barclay chose that moment to amble in from the butlery. “I beg to differ, young lady. You won’t be getting dirty at all, because I absolutely forbid you to go anywhere near the stables today. You’ll act like a proper young lady and remain either inside the house or out on the lawn until race time, conducting yourself accordingly.”
“But Mama.” The child sank back against her chair with a miserable groan.
Her mother maintained her meaningful glare. “No buts. I already have more trouble than I can handle today. Speaking of which—” She switched her attention to Mariah. “I’ve been told that Lizzie, Celie, and Pansy woke up this morning, of all mornings, covered with red spots. From what Benjamin says, slaves from the Murray plantation just up the road have come down with the measles, and it would appear they have spread the malady to our people. I’ve told my husband time and again to stop allowing our slaves to mix with that Murray bunch on Saturday nights. His people appear less than well cared for, you know. But Eldon refuses to stop our slaves from mingling.”
“Mercy me.” Mariah wagged her head. “Measles. And today of all days. How unfortunate.” She bit into her buttered biscuit.
“Quite. Needless to say, I cannot expose our guests to disease. The slaves will remain far from the premises until they recover. Some of our overnight guests will be bringing their personal servants with them, but there’s no time this morning to train any of our field hands to help with serving the food. Besides the scheduled dinner for forty-five we’ll be hosting, refreshments will be served during the ball afterward.” A slight pause, and she let the cannon ball fly. “I’m sorry, but the duty must fall upon you, Mariah. I’ve no other recourse. You’re simply going to have to help Eloise and Benjamin. I believe Ivy has not yet shown evidence of the illness, so unless she suddenly acquires the rash, she’ll be able to assist as well.”
Gasping, Mariah choked on her biscuit and started to cough.
The mistress shrugged a shoulder. “It can’t be helped.” That said, she took her leave.
Mariah glanced wildly around at the girls and saw that their mouths were also gaping. Surely this was just a nightmare. Yes, that’s what it was. Any minute now she’d wake up.
Dressed in one of Pansy’s extra uniforms—in hideous black—Mariah clenched her teeth together so hard her jaw felt like it would disintegrate. Her back ached, her feet ached, and she most likely reeked of kitchen grease and lye soap. Having been unable to snatch more than a minute here and there throughout the endless day to rest, she could barely keep her tears from breaking through the floodgates in back of her eyes and exploding forth in a torrent. This was to have been the most special of days. She should be flitting among the throng of visitors in a glamorous violet gown, fluttering the lacy fan demurely at dozens of handsome bachelors and catching their interest.
Instead, she’d been relegated to household slave, all but invisible in the shapeless black uniform and white apron. With a little more force than necessary, she plunked a heavy food tray on one of the three side tables now lining a wall in the dining room and removed a bowl of cut fruit and a platter of assorted cold meats and cheeses, setting them onto one of the remaining tables. If these fine people only knew that she, Mariah Harwood—lately arrived from the glorious resort of Bath, England, and now secretly betrothed to the son and heir of this very plantation—had been tripping about serving refreshments on the lawn all afternoon for everyone to gawk at! It was utterly humiliating and not to be borne.
Some guests, a number of them people she’d met at church and in the town shops, began gathering on the terrace just beyond the open glass-paned doors, chatting and laughing and enjoying themselves.
Savagely, she rubbed telltale moisture from her eyes, then rammed a stray strand of hair into the ruffled mobcap—mobcap!—Mistress Barclay insisted would keep most of the kitchen odors and smoke from seeping into her curls. She peered down at the latest white apron she’d put on over Pansy’s uniform less than an hour ago. Already there were splatters here and there.
Dejected, she let out a huff. What difference did it make? Any of it? She’d never be considered worthy by any of these people ever again. She picked up the empty tray and started back toward the kitchen.
The patter of rapid footsteps came from the front of the house as Amy ran to her side. “Mariah, can I help?”
Mariah’s eyes rounded as she beheld the youngest member of the household, golden ringlets straggling, hair ribbon askew, face and hands smeared with dirt, and several inches of her skirt pulled loose from the bodice. “What in heaven’s name happened to you? Look at your hair. Your skirt. You look horrid!”
“Oh, this.” Amy smirked, tugging at the gaping section. “It wasn’t my fault, I promise. It was that Henry Jay again.” Her lips pressed together in anger. “I was winnin’ the footrace, and he just couldn’t stand losin’ to a girl. He jerked me back by my skirt, and I fell on the ground, and he fell on top of me.”
“Amy, Amy…” Mariah just looked at her. “Supper will be served in just a few minutes. You cannot appear at the table in this frightful condition. Run upstairs as fast as you can and get presentable.”
“But Lizzie’s sick. There’s nobody to fix my hair.”
“Perhaps Victoria or Heather may still be up there. Tell them I said to do something with it. They’re both getting quite good at fancying each other up.”
“Tori always pulls my hair, and it hurts.” The child’s lower lip poked forward.
Mariah would have none of it. “Go! Now!” She pointed toward the staircase. “Catch your sister before she comes down. I not only want you to look as pretty as the other girls, I want you to look prettier. Do you understand? Now, off with you!”
“Yes, Mother!” With a toss of her wayward curls, the imp marched straight up the stairs with nary a backward glance.
Despite her weariness, Mariah couldn’t rest
rain a smile as she watched after the disaster-prone child and shook her head.
“Thank you.” Mistress Barclay stood in the butlery doorway. “For reprimanding Amy and sending her up for repairs.” Then the bane of Mariah’s hope strolled past her with her superior grace and rounded the long dining table as she headed for the terrace.
Mariah would gladly have chased after her and throttled her, only she was far too tired to do so.
The older woman whirled around.
For a moment Mariah feared that Cora Barclay had read her murderous thoughts.
The mistress tilted her head and met her gaze. “I know this has been a very hard and trying day for you.” No emotion colored her features as she spoke the kind-sounding words. But having uttered them, she simply turned back again and walked out the door to join her guests.
“Thank you, Mariah, for putting aside your fanciful dreams for the day and lowering yourself to be a doormat,” Mariah muttered bitterly under her breath, her hands on her hips. “I can never repay you for the great sacrifice you made for me.” Hmph. A crumb of gratitude might have been nice….
Then a more terrible thought surfaced. Even if Colin did still harbor the hope to marry her, would he honor their betrothal after he learned how she had been shamed this day before everyone he knew?
Once the morbid mental assaults started, others rushed in upon them. Colin’s mother had been entirely too pleasant since her son had been forced to leave. Had this been her plan all along? The moment the devious woman had been waiting for to destroy her once and for all? Mistress Barclay, the ever-so-righteous Christian?
And what of those allegedly sick servants? Did they truly have the measles?
One way or another, Mariah planned to find out.
Mariah blinked awake, then closed her eyes against a bright ray of sunshine. Sunshine! She must have overslept. It had to be close to noon!
Throwing off her sheet, Mariah sprang to her feet…and groaned. Her legs were stiff, her back hurt, and her shoulders and arms ached from carrying so many heavy trays yesterday. She’d never labored so hard in her life. And poor Eloise! Mariah had never seen the plump, older slave looking so worn out as she’d been by the time all the dishes from the party had been washed and put away. Young Ivy had helped a little, at first. But she was a mere slip of a thing, and by midday she began to feel ill and took to her bed, leaving the bulk of the responsibilities to Eloise and Mariah.
Further remembrance of the day before brought a rush of humiliation that weighted down Mariah’s chest. She’d never be able to dismiss the memory of staring eyes, the sneering remarks whispered behind fans. How would she ever rise above the shame? She most certainly wouldn’t, not in this neighborhood, around those guests.
Oh no! We still have houseguests! Limping over to her washstand, she wondered why she hadn’t been awakened and summoned to the kitchen. After pouring the contents of the pitcher into the bowl, she snatched a washcloth from its hook and placed it into the water.
The door swung open. “You’re awake. Finally.” Dressed for the day, Amy came skipping in. “Mama said not to bother you till you woke up. Heather got up a little while ago, but Tori’s still sleeping. She stayed up till the very end, so Mama says.”
Mariah squeezed moisture from the washing cloth and pressed it to her face, then turned to the girl. “Why was I not to be awakened? Surely Eloise wasn’t expected to handle breakfast all by herself.”
Amy shrugged a shoulder. “Tuck sent over two of their servants first thing this morning. They’re down in the kitchen now, helpin’ out.”
“Thank heavens.” With a sigh of relief, Mariah replaced the cloth on its hook and hobbled to her bed to lie down again.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Amy whirled around and dashed to her adjoining bedchamber then returned just as swiftly. “Here.” She held out a piece of correspondence. “Storekeeper Gladdings must’ve brought mail with him when he delivered supplies yesterday. Nobody noticed it layin’ on the—”
Mariah didn’t hear any more of Amy’s ramblings. At last! A missive from Colin! She snatched the letter from the child and tore open the wax seal. Unfolding the paper, she scanned quickly to the bottom to check the signature.
Her heart sank. It was from Rose.
“Who’s it from?” Coming closer, Amy angled her head, trying to peek at it.
Mariah took a second to control her disappointment. “ ’Tis from my sister Rose.”
“The one who got took away by the smelly man?”
She gave a weary nod.
“Read it to me, please. I never get mail.”
“Very well.” Feeling a headache coming on, Mariah patted the spot next to her on the bed. “But afterward you must promise to go and occupy yourself elsewhere for a few hours. I’d like to get a little more sleep.” And perhaps have a good cry.
Only half paying attention to the written words herself, Mariah read the rather vague missive from Rose aloud, before shooing Amy out. Then she lay down on the feather pillow and reread it more slowly. She felt a niggle of guilt for not having given either Rose or Lily much thought since her arrival at the plantation, but she drew comfort from learning about her older sister’s situation. It was hard to imagine Rose living in some remote village with few amenities, but hearing that her employer had turned out to be a kind man after all was welcome news.
Mariah wished she could say the same about Mistress Barclay. Suddenly filled with righteous ire, she eased to her feet, completed her toilette, and donned a gray linen dress. Then she went into the schoolroom to answer her sister’s letter. Rose would be shocked to hear just how badly she was abused here at the Barclays’.
As she put quill to paper, she paused. She had no qualms about telling Rose all about Mistress Barclay’s mistreatment of her, but she’d refrain from saying anything unkind about Colin—at least until she knew for certain that he’d abandoned her. She wouldn’t mention the secret betrothal or write that he planned to visit Papa in England, either. She wasn’t sure he’d keep his word and actually visit the family in Bath. It would be terrible to end up having to eat her words. Yesterday she’d eaten about as much humble pie as she cared to eat. Ever.
Salutations Rose. She began her response with as much dignity as she could muster. I was quite surprised to hear from you….
Chapter 18
The weak February dawn offered only pale light as a cold, damp breeze blew wisps of morning mist about. Mariah snuggled deeper into her woolen wrapper as she stood by the carriage to bid the Barclays farewell. She had mixed feelings about choosing to stay behind, but after her day of servanthood at the gala held by the family on race day, there was no way she could face attending a Valentine’s Day wedding in Baltimore with some of the same people. More’s the pity. She might have met some rich gentleman there who wouldn’t learn of her circumstance until she’d completely bewitched him. But on the other hand, with the Barclays away, she’d have an entire week of freedom…freedom to set another plan in motion, even if it did happen to be somewhat less appealing than her original one.
It piqued her that Colin had never written. How was she to know if he even intended to come back?
Victoria leaned out the window of the now hooded landau and touched Mariah on the shoulder. “I wish I didn’t have to go. I’d rather stay here with you.”
Knowing that Tori reveled in having three attentive young men dropping by to visit her several times a week now, it came as no surprise that the girl disliked having to leave her beaus behind. She took Victoria’s outstretched hand and gave it a squeeze. “Dearest, think of all the other young gentlemen you would disappoint if you didn’t go to Baltimore.”
“What gentlemen?” Tori’s face clouded over. “I don’t know a soul there.”
“You will, sweetheart, trust me. And you shall have the most marvelous time if you just allow yourself to do so. Besides, think of how you would disappoint your cousin if you failed to arrive, particularly since you agreed to be her maid o
f honor.”
“You’re right.” Withdrawing her gloved hand from Mariah’s grasp, she settled back against the leather cushion once again, only slightly mollified.
Out the back opening, Mistress Barclay mouthed a thank-you to Mariah as her husband tapped his metal-knobbed cane on the frame of the carriage bonnet, signaling their driver to start the team.
The landau lunged away down the lane, with young hands reaching out from both sides, waving good-bye. Mariah found herself a bit bereft already. The girls had truly captured her heart. The big house would seem empty without them.
With a sigh, she turned to glance down at the stables. Mr. Scott would be out working one horse or another soon. Perhaps she’d meander down there. After all, she had only a week to entice the redhead’s affections enough that he’d purchase her bond. Still, she shouldn’t be too pushy, look too desperate. He had to be the one to make the advances. Or at least think that.
She would take her time. She turned back to the house, intending to dress in an appealing, but not overly adorned, gown, and fashion her hair in a simpler, refined style. It would make her appear older and more serious. Perhaps she’d even look up a verse or two from the Bible to discuss, giving her a purpose he’d appreciate for her going down there. She smiled. Yes, that’s what she’d do. After all, being married to a respected man like him would restore her own respectability…and with any luck at all, he might even turn out to be a pleasant husband. And generous, as well.
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 46
