Defiant Impostor

by Miriam Minger

  It was an unsettling moment. She, who had done the waiting upon, was now the mistress of a large household, with servants to see to her every need. What was she to say to them? How should she act? Would they somehow sense that she was actually one of them?

  “Your house servants,” Adam explained in a low voice, his hand firmly—and impertinently, she decided—upon her elbow as he steered her toward them. “You probably know from your father that some of them are slaves while others have earned their freedom, and have chosen to remain here as paid help. The same can be said for the rest of the workers at Briarwood. “

  Actually, Susanna had heard of this unusual arrangement from Camille, who had been proud of her father’s lenient and fair-minded attitude toward his slaves. She, however, didn’t like the idea of anyone owning another human being; it wasn’t right. Yet when she had expressed her opinion, Camille had said it was simply the way things were done in Virginia. Briarwood would never have achieved its greatness without the several hundred slaves who toiled in the tobacco fields. At least they were luckier than most to have James Cary as their owner.

  But now you are their owner, Susanna thought, the reality of the situation not sitting well with her. Yet there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it, except to continue on as James Cary had done, allowing slaves to earn their freedom and then giving them the choice to stay on at the plantation or to set out on their own.

  As Adam continued speaking, Susanna noticed that his voice had grown strangely harsh. Why, she couldn’t imagine.

  “There are also some indentured servants here from Britain who are primarily craftsmen, but their numbers are few. Your father ceased to buy indentures several years ago, at my urging.” He said no more upon the subject, but began to introduce her to the servants, the first a very stout woman with an enormous bosom. “This is Prue. She’s the head cook here at Briarwood, and an excellent one, I might add.”

  “Hello,” Susanna said softly, offering a small smile.

  “We’re so glad you’re here, Miss Camille,” the woman said with obvious sincerity. “The house has been so empty since your papa …” She couldn’t finish, her large dark eyes misting. “Well, will you look at me? A happy occasion and all.”

  Susanna’s heart went out to her. It was clear James Cary had been very well liked, and was still sorely missed.

  “I’m happy to be here,” she said rather shyly, attempting her best imitation of Camille. “Thank you for your kind welcome, Prue.”

  The woman’s friendly smile returned and she drew herself up, her emotions once again under control. “I’m preparing a nice welcome dinner for you, Miss Camille. Master Cary always liked to dine straight up at three o’clock, but if you’d like to eat a bit earlier or later—”

  “Three o’clock will be fine. It is not my intention to change the way my father did things at Briarwood.”

  Her answer seemed to please the woman, who beamed broadly. “Good enough, Miss Camille. Good enough.”

  Susanna moved quickly along the line as Adam made more introductions, so many that the names of kitchen maids, chambermaids, laundry and dairy maids, the valet, a steward who kept the plantation’s books, and numerous others were soon swimming in her mind. The last person she came to was an older black woman with short, graying hair beneath her starched cap. Her deeply lined face was still striking, although she appeared to be perhaps sixty years old or more. She regarded Susanna with a kind, hopeful expression.

  “Do you remember me, Miss Camille? You’ve surely changed since I saw you last. You were just a little one then, no taller than my knees. I wouldn’t have known you except for your pretty hair and eyes. My, you’ve grown into a fine beauty, just like your mama.”

  Taken aback, Susanna had no idea who this woman was. Adam did not readily come to her aid but seemed somewhat surprised himself that she did not know the woman’s name.

  “Ertha,” he finally murmured, after an awkward silence.

  Susanna flushed warmly, embarrassed that she’d forgotten all about Camille’s childhood nurse.

  Camille had always spoken of Ertha fondly—the woman had been like a mother to her, Constance Cary having died when Camille was barely one year old—but she had never really given Susanna any clear description of her. Camille had been so young when Captain Keyes had escorted her to England that her recollections of the woman were uncertain at best. Camille had simply remembered Ertha for her warm, constant presence; her soft, crooning voice singing her to sleep with lullabies.

  Hoping to compensate for her blunder, Susanna turned back to the woman, who looked crestfallen, and took her hands, squeezing them gently.

  “Of course. Forgive me, Ertha. I don’t know what came over me. It’s been so long …”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, child,” Ertha said graciously, although some of the light had left her eyes. “It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t have expected that you might remember me.”

  Again silence fell between them, broken when Adam interjected, “Ertha has been Briarwood’s head housekeeper for fifteen years now. She has a gift for making everything run smoothly and a firm but gentle knack for keeping the others in line. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with her work.”

  “I know I will,” Susanna replied, wishing there was some way she could make up for her unintended slight. Releasing the woman’s hands, she looked up at Adam, hoping she appeared convincingly fatigued.

  In truth, she did feel drained. Her new position in life was so overwhelming and her responsibilities so great that her well-meaning masquerade suddenly weighed very heavily upon her. She needed some time alone to gather herself together. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Thornton, I would like to see my room now. I could use a short rest before dinner.”

  His deep brown eyes were concerned, but she also sensed his agitation. “You’re not ill …”

  “No, simply tired.” Then, feeling the need to reassure everyone present when she saw some nervous sidelong glances, she added, “The physician gave me a clean bill of health before I left the ship. You mustn’t worry about me.”

  Yet when Adam still appeared unconvinced, irritation tweaked at her. What was he so concerned about? “You seem troubled, Mr. Thornton,” she said a bit too curtly, forgetting herself. “Perhaps you think I should not set foot in my house until you’re certain that I’m free of disease?”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all,” he replied, his expression one of curious surprise. Then he smiled slightly, as if amused. “By all means, go in. Ertha’s had the household staff working for days to have everything ready for you.”

  Silently cursing her heedless tongue and telling herself she must be more careful so as not to arouse suspicion, Susanna softened her tone, although she remained annoyed. “If you’ll kindly excuse me, then.” Without waiting for him, she walked up the stairs to the door. She certainly didn’t need him to escort her everywhere, especially not into her new home.

  “I’ll see you at dinner, Miss Cary. Enjoy your rest.”

  Susanna glanced over her shoulder to find Adam striding back toward the carriage, and for the first time, she noticed that he walked with a slight limp. Yet his bearing was straight and strong, his pace powerful; it was obvious that his disability did not hamper him as he untethered the spirited chestnut stallion and led the animal away.

  Had he suffered some injury? she wondered, stepping into the spacious hall. And what did he mean by saying that he’d join her at dinner? Since when did the hired help sit at the table with their employers? She had never eaten one meal in Lady Redmayne’s elegant dining room, but had always dined with the other domestic servants in the kitchen.

  “If you’ll follow me, Miss Camille, I’ll show you upstairs to your room,” Ertha said, gesturing to Elias to unload the trunks as she followed Susanna into the hall. With another wave of her hand, the other servants scattered, returning to their assigned tasks. “Miss Camille?” she repeated.

  Susanna heard the housekeeper, but s
he felt as if her feet were rooted to the floor as she gazed in rapt awe about her. From what she could see while standing in the hall, the interior of the house was not in the least stuffy or somber, as Lady Redmayne’s country manor had been. Golden sunlight pouring from open doorways reflected upon the fine furnishings and polished parquet floor, the hospitable scene easing Susanna’s fatigue.

  She heard a soft chuckle and turned to find Ertha smiling at her, the housekeeper’s good nature clearly restored after the earlier awkwardness between them.

  “How about a quick tour of the house, Miss Camille? I’d be pleased to show it to you. Since you were so little when you were here last, it will be like seeing it for the first time.”

  Susanna nodded, and eagerly followed Ertha from one sumptuously decorated room into the next: the dining room, dominated by a huge mahogany table that could seat twenty; the library, filled from floor to ceiling with richly embossed, leather-bound books; a game room with a large billiard table and tables for playing cards; a splendid forty-foot long ballroom with mirrored walls and crystal chandeliers; a small music room in which she planned to spend little time at all, especially since she could not play the harpsichord; and a drawing room graced by elegant yet comfortable furnishings, its papered walls hung with family portraits.

  She paused before the largest painting, a charming family scene, and with a sharp pang realized that the pretty blonde toddler seated atop her mother’s lap was Camille while the two boys, perhaps six and eight, were her brothers who had died so young. Behind them, proud and straight, stood a bewigged and handsome James Cary, his hand placed lovingly upon his wife’s shoulder.

  “Those were happy, happy times,” Ertha murmured, then she turned and gazed directly at Susanna. “Now that you’re home, Miss Camille, we’ll know those times again. I’m just sure of it.”

  Susanna’s throat constricted with emotion. Her lips curved into the most confident smile she could muster, though she knew it also held sadness. With a last glance at the painting, she moved toward the door, feeling as if all Cary eyes were upon her, especially Camille’s.

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying so,” Ertha continued as they walked together into the hall, “but what this house needs is little children again, their laughter filling the rooms and the sound of their feet running up and down the stairs. It’s been too quiet here for too long. I hope you find a husband soon, Miss Camille.”

  Susanna met the housekeeper’s eyes. “That is my plan, Ertha,” she said honestly. “It’s what my father wanted and what I want. A husband and lots of children.” Glancing at the sweeping black walnut stairway that led to the second floor, she added softly, “We’re going to have a welcome ball here on Saturday, for the Grymes family and some of the other neighbors. Would you see to the preparations?”

  How strange, Susanna thought, as Ertha’s wrinkled face split into a surprised yet radiant smile. That was her first request as the mistress of the house, and it hadn’t been difficult to give at all. In fact, it had seemed quite natural. Maybe from watching Lady Redmayne give orders to servants so many times, she had actually learned something.

  “Why, of course I will!” the housekeeper enthused. “It’s been too long since we had a house party at Briarwood, and if Mr. Robert Grymes is coming, I imagine he’ll tell everyone within shouting distance about it. That man has a real fondness for revelry, and so does his oldest son, Matthew. You can be sure that there will be plenty of young men here on Saturday eager to make your acquaintance. You’ll have that fine husband of yours in no time at all!”

  Ertha’s pleased laughter ended abruptly, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, my, I’ve so much to do. Believe me, I’ve a feeling this ball will be the Tidewater’s social event of the summer. I have to talk to Prue at once. We’ve got to plan the menu, and—

  “Why don’t you go and speak to her right now, then,” Susanna interrupted kindly, sensing the woman’s eagerness to be about her work. “I can see my way upstairs. Just tell me which room is mine.”

  “Are you sure, Miss Camille? It doesn’t seem right, me not showing you to your room, what with you just arriving and all.”

  “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “Very well, if you say so. You’ll find your room at the very end of the hall, facing the rear of the house. It’s the same one that used to belong to your parents. I’m sure Elias has already taken your trunks upstairs. I’ll send Corliss to wake you in an hour or so, and she’ll help you dress for dinner.”

  With that, the housekeeper hurried away, talking excitedly under her breath. Susanna, smiling, climbed the stairs, looking forward to being alone for a while. Yet at the top of the stairway, her curiosity was aroused again by the sight of four closed bedroom doors in addition to hers down the carpeted hallway.

  As long as she was taking a tour of the house, she might as well see these rooms, too, she reasoned. If they were even half as lovely as those downstairs …

  She was not disappointed. The first guest bedroom was spacious and well-appointed, with white walls, blue brocade draperies at the tall windows, and a matching spread upon the double bed. She crossed the hall to the opposite room and, turning the silver-plated knob, stepped inside.

  “What in bloody blazes … ?” she breathed to herself.

  She stared in stunned confusion at a room that appeared not only occupied, but also in a state of wild disarray. The huge four-poster bed was unmade, the pillows scattered, and the rumpled sheets strewn with clothes, while a pair of dusty jackboots lay nearby on the floor—

  Jackboots! And that was a shirt and a pair of breeches tossed upon the bed, not a gown and lace undergarments. Why, this must be a man’s room … unless she had stumbled upon the site of a carnal tryst and the lover had fled without his clothing.

  No, that was ridiculous, Susanna thought as she moved still further into the room. Her gaze skipped from an upended tricorn hat and a leather belt lying atop a richly upholstered chair to a massive wardrobe, its doors half-open. Even from where she stood, she could see full-sleeved white lawn shirts, dark riding clothes, and even a fine forest-green coat and gold brocade waistcoat hanging inside.

  This was a man’s room. But whose? Was there an overnight guest visiting Briarwood, someone Ertha had failed to tell her about in the commotion of her arrival?

  “I hope you can forgive the mess. I left in quite a hurry this morning to meet the Charming Nancy, and it appears the servants neglected to straighten my room in all the excitement.”

  Susanna spun, her heart hammering in her throat. She gaped at Adam, who stood leaning against the doorjamb. He was smiling that same self-assured smile, his arms crossed casually over his chest.

  “Y-your room?” she stammered in disbelief, her thoughts racing. Who had ever heard of such a thing? A hired man living under the master’s roof? The mistress’s roof? Her roof?

  “Yes. My room,” he stated with emphasis, his smile fading into a look of irritation and his eyes growing hard. “It’s been mine since I became the plantation manager three years ago. A quaint custom in the Tidewater, and obviously one you’re unfamiliar with. If there’s a spare bedroom in a planter’s house, it is often given to either the tutor or the manager, both highly esteemed positions on a plantation. Since there are no children here, and thus no tutor, I was given the honor.”

  “Oh …” Susanna barely managed to say, shocked by such an arrangement. She could just hear Lady Redmayne’s snort of disapproval!

  Her place had always been in the servants’ wing—except for that one night in London when she had slept in that lovely feather bed—although Camille had often begged her aunt to allow Susanna to move into the smaller bedroom next to her own. Lady Redmayne would hear none of it. Although she knew they were best friends, the baroness had insisted that there remain a firm distinction between mistress and waiting-maid.

  “I also eat my meals at the planter’s table and drink his wine,” Adam continued tightly. “Another fine custom. And if you’re a c
rop master, the rewards are even greater.”

  “Crop master?” she asked. She shifted nervously as he walked toward her. So he would be dining with her, just as he had said. A hired man!

  “Yes, crop master,” he repeated, his tone growing angrier, his eyes demanding that she look at him. “A title bestowed upon only a few men, usually planters. I acquired it by learning as much as I could about tobacco. It’s the kind of knowledge that impresses the Tidewater gentry. Earns a self-made man their respect.” He came even closer, his gaze not wavering from her face. “That title has given me something else, Miss Cary, something which you’ve always possessed. The gentry see me as one of their own now. I can go to their house parties, ride in their horse races, and even court their women—”

  “Ex-excuse me, Mr. Thornton,” Susanna cut him off, giving him a wide berth as she hurried to the door. Her words emerged in a distracted torrent. “I didn’t mean to pry. I didn’t know this was your room. I thought I would just look at all the bedrooms since I haven’t seen them before … I mean for so long …” She tore her gaze from him and didn’t look back, acutely aware that he was watching her, and growing all the more flushed because of it. She hastened down the hall to her room, and leaned breathlessly against the door when she was inside.

  She had a madman sleeping down the hall from her! she thought wildly. Either that or Virginia was a very strange place indeed. She had never heard of such customs! And why had he become so angry? How direct and rude he had been, considering she was now his employer. She couldn’t make sense of all he had said, and right now, she didn’t even want to try. All she wanted was to lie down and give her whirling thoughts a rest!

  ***

  Adam shut the door, cursing under his breath.

  Now you’ve done it, he berated himself, tearing off his coat and tossing it on the chair. If this was his idea of wooing Camille gently, then he was failing miserably, and it was his own damn fault. He had clearly upset her, but then he had meant to. If only she hadn’t stared at him so incredulously when he had said this was his room. He could just imagine what she had been thinking.