by Kimberly Nee
“She doesn’t. Or she wasn’t supposed to.” He rubbed his forehead with a tired hand. “Katie wants me to leave her be. She wants me to pursue Sally.”
Always the voice of reason, Serena cocked her head to the side. “Oh, well, you can hardly blame her, Rafe. You didn’t exactly prove yourself to her, did you?”
That she was right didn’t make hearing it any easier. He scowled at her. “I know. I know. Trust me, I’m very much aware of how I failed her. I know it’s my fault. I was a coward, and that cowardice cost me. Now I have to find some way to get her to forgive me.”
“How do you plan to do that? If it were me, I don’t know that I’d be so inclined to forgive you. Men are such fools sometimes.”
“So what do I do? I don’t know how else to let her know how much I regret it, how to get her to trust me. But—” he held her stare easily, “—you can’t let on that you know who she is, and you can’t mention we’ve had this conversation. No one can know who she is.”
“Well, I should say not. I can’t imagine Lady Marchand would be too keen on keeping her in service here.” She glanced up toward the house nestled in the green canopy. “So, what have you done to earn her forgiveness?”
“Nothing yet, aside from apologizing as much as I can.”
“Oh, there’s your first mistake, Rafe. Words are just words. They can be all too easy to say, and ring hollow when you’ve already wounded her with sharp-tipped barbs, or worse, with silence. It’s going to take much more than that.”
“And that’s why I need your help.”
She smiled, her eyes dancing with delight. “I should ask Elena to help, since she loves playing matchmaker so much. But remember, you’re going to have to do whatever Katie wants in order to make her want you again. Whatever it is, you will do it and do it with a smile. Otherwise you’re going to spend the rest of your life miserable, and most likely with Sally Hamilton as your wife.”
She caught him by the shoulder and rose up onto her toes to brush his cheek with a kiss. “And you might get on my nerves, but you’re still my brother and I don’t wish to see you any more miserable.”
With that, she took herself off, whistling something horribly cheerful as she wound her way back to the path and out of sight. Of course she would do whatever she had to do. Serena enjoyed a challenge and rarely was pessimistic enough to think she couldn’t succeed.
Perhaps it was time he tried doing that himself for a change.
Chapter Eleven
As they worked at scrubbing the soot from the hearth and dusting the library mantle, Abigail shot triumphant smiles at Katie, who gritted her teeth and did her best to ignore them.
“I’m surprised you didn’t cry to Mrs. Bates,” Abigail sneered, wringing out her cloth in the bucket of sooty water. “I thought for sure you’d scurry right to her.”
“Cry to her about what? This?” Katie gestured as if she sported bruised eyes all the time. Over the course of the last two days, some of the swelling had come down. The bruising looked even worse, but Mrs. Bates assured her that meant it was healing nicely. She hoped so, because the blackish-purple color of the bruise made her queasy. The doctor had come up from the village again and promised that her sight would return to normal, which was a great relief, as having only one functioning eye caused its fair share of trouble.
It seemed to trouble Mrs. Bates to no end that Katie wouldn’t name her attacker. But Katie figured she would settle the score when the time was right, and if she kept quiet, it would lessen the risk of Abigail prying further into her past and uncovering anything else to use against her in retaliation.
However, she had been bored. Very bored. For those two days, Mrs. Bates had insisted she rest, and while she had appreciated the concern, resting had slowly driven her mad. There was only so much sleeping a body could do, and she hadn’t wanted to risk walking on the beach and bumping into Rafe again. So far, he’d kept his word and not sought her out. There were few things she regretted as much as she did pleading with him to leave her alone. But she’d had to do it, had too much to lose, even if Rafe was serious about wanting to win her back. She wouldn’t risk it. How could she, when she wasn’t certain she could trust him again? What if he ran once more at the first sight of his family’s disapproval of her? Then where would she be? No work. Nowhere to live. She’d be back where she was when she’d met him.
“I thought you’d sing like a bird.” Abigail swiped at a black soot smudge on the white marble. As much as she disliked her, Katie had to admit she didn’t shirk her duties. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a completely vile person, Abigail would be ideal to share chores with.
“Why? I’m perfectly capable of dealing with you on my own.”
“Of course you are.” Smug triumph dotted her words as Abigail worked her way along the mantle’s lip. “Which is why your face is purple and mine is not. Because you dealt with it so well.”
Only by biting the side of her tongue could Katie remain silent. She concentrated on the various curiosities scattered along the marble. It was a cluttered space, with the small china figurines and the miniature portraits of Hamiltons from generations past. They were faded from time but remained on display, and she took care to gently dust them, one by one, and put them back exactly where they’d been.
By the time she finished, most of her aggravation had faded. Abigail must have figured she wasn’t going to get the reaction she wanted and so thankfully had stopped trying. She’d moved to the bookshelves, where she dusted in blessed silence.
The Hamilton family’s glorious past was on full display throughout Marchand Hall, in portrait and marble. Katie wondered what it was like to not have any blanks in one’s history. She remembered so little about her past. She didn’t know what day she’d been born, wasn’t even certain of the year. Since Vanessa was nearly a score and six, and she didn’t look much older than Katie, Katie thought they might be the same age. But she would never be completely sure. How she wished she remembered. She didn’t even recall any specific tragedy that might have led her to forget.
The one thing she remembered clearly was the butterfly ornament and brief flashes of the fair-haired woman she thought must be her mother. It was difficult not to be envious of Lady Sally and Lady Edna. They knew their history, knew where they came from and what sort of blood they had. Even the Sebastianos made her envious. There were so many of them, and they were all so close to one another. She’d seen that when Rafe and Conn had gone to retrieve what they thought would be their brother’s corpse. No hesitation, no fear of what they were walking into. They had confronted Ric Esteban with all the fire of lightning and all the power of thunder.
She could only imagine how comforting it must be, to have a family, to know someone was always there to look out for you. She rubbed her cloth absently against the edge of a miniature gilt frame. Rafe had often spoken of his siblings as if they were his closest friends as well.
On her next venture into the village, Katie hoped to find something to send to Vanessa for the babies. She missed her, as she’d come to love her like a sister. For a short time, Katie had considered Vanessa family. Vanessa and Balboa. Her odd little family, such as it was. And then Rafe. No matter how short the time, she was always happy to have had every one of them in her life. She, who trusted so few people easily, had laid herself open for them and had not regretted it. At least, not until Rafe had betrayed her. That was when she had vowed to never accept anyone else as family. Although Martha was slowly breaking down that barrier.
“I actually wouldn’t have taken you for a coward,” Abigail said suddenly, provocatively, and Katie looked at her in disgust.
“Do you think you’ve somehow won something because I’ve not blackened your eye in return?”
As was apparently her way, Abigail made a “ho-hum” sound and gave a lazy shrug as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “I find it amusing that you
think you could even bruise me, to be honest.”
She should only know how many heads Katie had cuffed at Old Towne Tavern. It had rarely taken an unruly drunk a second clip to figure out Katie was definitely hands-off. She hadn’t been afraid to toss a man into the alleyway behind the tavern, should the need arise. A good pinch to the ear and he’d howl with pain as she marched him out the door.
Anger sparked to life deep in the pit of Katie’s belly. Don’t do anything foolish, her inner voice warned. She swallowed hard against it, trying to cram that anger back into its small box and keep it quiet. “Perhaps you simply aren’t worth the effort. Besides, I value my position far more than I’d ever value revenge.”
Abigail’s dusty rag went still, and this time she did turn. A balled-up fist came to rest on her hip. “And why is that? Why do you so value being a maid, Katie? Is this the best you can ever hope to get? Don’t you ever want more?”
Katie shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. She’d been on them since dawn, but didn’t want Abigail to guess she felt any sort of discomfort. “It’s preferable to the alternatives.”
“And what might those be?” Abigail’s eyes narrowed, and Katie got an uneasy feeling beneath the bed of anger. “I’ve always been in service, but I get the feeling you haven’t. At least—” a glint came into her dark eyes, “—not this sort of service.”
Katie glared at Abigail, who had a look of superior triumph about her. “What is that supposed to mean?” She struggled to keep her voice as calm and even as possible. All the while, her heart raced at three times its normal pace, which made her thoughts race with equal fury. Stay calm, her inner voice warned. Don’t give anything away.
A cold sweat prickled along her spine. No. She was being silly. Abigail had never been to Jamaica. As far as Katie knew, the girl had spent her entire life in Bermuda. How could she know about Katie’s former life?
Bermuda was a small island, and its isolation should have kept that sort of gossip from reaching its shores. But she’d sold herself for a long time. She couldn’t possibly remember every man who had passed through her door. It was entirely conceivable that one of those men had come to Bermuda, and even more conceivable that he would recognize her before she recognized him. In fact, it was probably a safe bet she’d be recognized first.
That left her with a sick, sour feeling in the pit of her stomach and made it impossible for her to think very clearly. Even if she could have recalled every face, she wouldn’t now.
Who in Marchand Hall could know about her and would be so cruel as to spread such information? She had to consider one of the Sebastianos as a possible source, although she couldn’t see any of them confiding in Abigail.
But there were also the Sebastiano servants to consider. Servants always knew what was going on, and they weren’t always reticent about spreading gossip. Especially something as salacious as this.
A chilled dread coursed through her veins. Mrs. Sebastiano had brought her lady’s maid with her, a dreadfully stuffy woman who refused to mingle with Marchand’s staff. What if she had recognized Katie? She might be stuffy, but even she might enjoy chewing on a tasty bit of gossip.
Stop it. Just stop. If anyone knew, you’d be gone from here.
“What’s wrong with you?” Abigail’s voice broke through Katie’s racing thoughts, laden with sickly-sweet concern.
Katie pushed away from the hearth, still fearing her legs would refuse to hold her. Thankfully, she was able to face Abigail without even a flinch. “What?”
“I said—”
“Are you still in here?”
Katie had never been more relieved to see Mrs. Bates when the housekeeper bustled in. She wasn’t alone, but had a small, timid-looking girl beside her. After a not-so-gentle shove, the girl stumbled forward. She was slight, scarcely bigger than a twelve-year-old child. Everything about her was diminutive, from her hands clasped at her waist to the toes of tiny slippers that peeped out from beneath the hem of her skirts.
Her smile was shy, so Katie stepped up to clasp her by the hand. “Welcome, Miss—”
“Josephine,” she replied. Dear God, even her voice was small. “Josephine Armbruster, ma’am.”
“No ‘ma’am’,” chided Mrs. Bates. “This is Katie and Abigail. Listen to them, as they are very good at their jobs.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” said Katie. “It’s always nice to see a new face.”
“I only hope I don’t disappoint anyone.”
That was something Katie could believe. Josephine barely looked old enough to need stays.
Abigail’s smile was the same perfunctory one Katie had received, but she looked at Josephine as if the girl were little more than a palmetto bug. “Welcome.”
Josephine’s smile wavered at Abigail’s less than warm greeting, but, to her credit, it remained in place. “This house is so big, I’m terrified I’ll get lost in it.”
“Never you worry about that,” Mrs. Bates assured her with a gentle pat on her shoulder. “Katie, would you please show Josephine about? Abigail, you’ll come help me in the dining room.”
“Yes, Mrs. Bates.” She shot Katie one last glare and left the room in the housekeeper’s wake, leaving Katie and Josephine staring at one another.
Josephine slowly turned about as she tried to take in the library. If the sheer awe on her face was any indication, she’d never seen one like it. Katie remembered that feeling, as she had experienced it the first time she set foot in the library as well. Lord Marchand loved books and collected them the way he would snuffboxes or cufflinks.
“It’s overwhelming, but when we work together, it gets finished in no time.” Katie linked her arm through Josephine’s, whose eyes went wide as she surveyed the shelves around them.
“His Lordship certainly has a lot of books. I never seen so many in one place before.”
“Do you read? Lord Marchand is very kind about loaning them.”
“No, I don’t.” A low sigh leaked through her lips. “You read?”
Katie wished fervently she could say yes, but she struggled so badly with it that proclaiming she could would be a lie. It wouldn’t take long before Josephine learned the truth. “Not well, but I’m learning. Perhaps we could learn together. I can ask Martha, but I doubt she’ll mind another body. She’s teaching me, you know.”
“Which one is Martha? There are almost as many maids as there are books in this house.”
“Martha’s above. You probably won’t meet her until supper. We all eat together. Like a family.” Katie took down a small bust of William Shakespeare from the shelf. “I expect that number will grow a little over the coming weeks. There’re to be two weddings soon. The servants are going to multiply like fleas, and there will probably be family galore coming as well.”
Josephine let out a giggle, then clapped both hands over her mouth. When she had controlled herself, she peeled them back to ask, “Really? Whose weddings?”
“Both Lady Sally and Lady Edna. I’m sure you’ll meet them eventually. I don’t think either of them has come down yet.”
“Ladies do enjoy sleeping in, don’t they? My dream is to be able to sleep until my eyes open all on their own. I’ve never been able to do that.”
“I’d like that for a while, but not indefinitely.” William went back on the shelf, next to several volumes of his works. Katie glanced over at Josephine as she ran her rag over the shelf. “With nothing to do, I find time goes by so slowly. It would drive me mad to have nothing but leisure time.”
Josephine shrugged. “I think it would be months before I went mad. I’ve been in service since I was practically in leading strings. Ladies are an especially pampered lot and they never seem to appreciate what they have. Always complaining about this little thing or that little thing.” She paused in her dusting. “Are the ladies here spoiled chits as well?”
“No more than any other ladies, I suppose. They are good people, and not particularly difficult.” She gestured for Josephine to follow her. “I’ll show you where everything is, and then we should go above and dress for the evening. Did Mrs. Bates tell you dinner is a formal event? You do have formal livery, don’t you?” She winked at Josephine as she added, “You’ll have to be as neat as possible if you wish to be a lady’s maid one day, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’d like being a lady’s maid. Never had any desire for that. I got other dreams instead. My mother was in service. Spent her entire life there, and I’m not going to be her.”
Another Abigail, only more human and much friendlier. Katie held back her snort. Josephine was still young enough to think grandiose thoughts of the wonders her future could bring. She hadn’t learned that everyone had their place and it was very difficult to climb up when you were on the bottom of the heap. Or nearly the bottom. Unlike Abigail, Josephine didn’t seem bitter, but wistful. “Does Mrs. Bates know this is only temporary?”
Josephine’s smile widened. “Of course not. I don’t want to die in service, but I appreciate the opportunity I got. I asked about in the village and everyone seems to think highly of the Hamilton family. And if I do good here, Mrs. Bates will offer up glowing references when I move on.”
“And what do you dream of doing, when you move on?”
The younger girl’s entire face lit up with a youthful glow that made Katie a bit envious. “I was told there are some very eligible men visiting. That’s why I answered the advertisement for the position. I should like to meet an eligible gentleman with good prospects. I would make a good wife. That’s what I dream of. A good husband. Children. A few dogs. Heaven. Right here on earth.”
Katie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from dashing the girl’s hopes. Josephine couldn’t have been a score in age. She still had a bright-eyed wonderment at the world around her and a very romanticized notion of how it worked, and Katie didn’t want to be the one to bring her back down to earth.
