Defiant Impostor

by Miriam Minger

  A hired man sleeping only a few doors away from her? Well, he wasn’t just any hired man! And the sooner she knew about his intention to marry her and that her father had approved of the match, the better. Yet somehow he would have to compensate for the less than fine impression he had just given of himself.

  Growing more disgusted with his behavior, Adam leaned against the window, blind to the bustle of activity outside.

  Dammit, he shouldn’t have been so hard on her. Of course she wouldn’t know of the Tidewater’s customs, being a gently bred young woman raised in England. The social distinctions so rigid there were more blurred in Virginia, and more easily scaled. How could he have expected her to know that? Maybe she had simply been surprised, not insulted or disturbed, to discover that this was his room. He had to admit, the arrangement was unusual if he looked at it from her perspective.

  Patience, man, you’ll make amends, Adam told himself as he changed into rougher clothes and his work-worn jackboots for the long, dusty ride ahead of him. Too bad it couldn’t be over dinner.

  He had been looking forward to spending more time her with, especially after what he had seen of her so far. He suspected that passion lurked beneath her shy exterior, although she kept it well-hidden. Yet in the carriage when he had leaned against her soft, lush body, there had been no mistaking the heightened color of her cheeks and the rapid pulse at the base of her lovely throat. Her reaction to his nearness had pleased and excited him; he could tell she was easily aroused by a man’s touch, knowledge which he would use to his advantage.

  He had been sorely tempted to kiss her then and there, to see if he could unleash more of that hidden passion, but he had restrained himself, thinking it would be too much too soon for his timid heiress. He would observe the proper niceties first and tell her of his plans for them, then kiss her. But now that moment would have to wait a while longer, Adam thought with regret.

  There was trouble in the outlying tobacco fields because of a newly hired overseer who had exceeded his bounds with the slaves. Josiah Skinner, one of his head overseers, had just informed him in the stable that the man had been using the lash even though he knew no whips were allowed on Cary land. If the accusation was true, the bastard would be thrown off the plantation. Adam would not tolerate any deviation from his orders.

  As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced at Camille’s door, wondering if he should say anything to her now. Then, remembering how weary she had looked, he decided against it. He would let her rest. He wanted her to be fresh and receptive when she heard what he had to say.

  Chapter 5

  Susanna felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder and opened her eyes with a start, at first not knowing where she was. “What … ?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Camille. I didn’t mean to wake you so sudden-like. Ertha sent me to help you dress for dinner. My name’s Corliss, if you recall. I’ll be your waiting-maid—that is, if you like me well enough.”

  Time and place came flooding back to her, and Susanna realized from the crick in her neck that she had fallen asleep in the rather stiff chair near the fireplace. She remembered exploring briefly the luxurious suite with its huge canopied bed, separate sitting area, and curved balcony overlooking beautiful gardens that led down to the river. Then she had plopped down here, her enjoyment of her surroundings tempered by her unsettling encounter with Adam. She must have leaned her head back and nodded off.

  “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, Corliss,” she finally replied, hoping to reassure the pretty young woman who looked to be about the same age as herself. She knew she had succeeded when the maid grinned happily.

  “I already laid out a few gowns for you to choose from,” Corliss said in a rush, clearly eager to please, “and there’s hot water in the basin if you want to wash. Now if you’ll stand up, Miss Camille, I’ll help you out of your traveling clothes.”

  Susanna did as Corliss asked, thinking how strange it was to have someone waiting upon her like this. But she supposed she would have to get used to it. The household servants would wonder if she insisted upon seeing after her own personal needs.

  As she washed and changed into a beautiful emerald-green gown—the stays laced to within an inch of her life, and the satin skirt buoyed by the same stiff whalebone hoop-petticoat she had practiced walking in last night—Corliss fluttered around her like a butterfly, arranging and fussing and making flattering comments.

  “You’re a true beauty, Miss Camille, I knew it the first moment I saw you. I swear you’re going to make the other misses jealous when they see you at the ball on Saturday. If they’re engaged to be married, they better hold on real tight to their menfolk, that’s all I have to say. One look at you could easily change any gentleman’s mind and bring him running like a hound panting after a fox.”

  Embarrassed at such talk, Susanna quickly sought to shift the focus of discussion to another topic as she sat down at the elegant dressing table. Now that she had gotten some rest, her mind was much clearer, and her thoughts returned to her troubling encounter with Adam. Her curiosity about him mounting, she wondered if perhaps the talkative Corliss could enlighten her about this puzzling and most infuriating man.

  “Corliss, is it really a common practice in Virginia for a hired man … a plantation manager to have a room in the master’s house?”

  “You mean like Mr. Thornton?” the maid asked, whisking a brush through Susanna’s thick hair.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Miss Camille, I’d have to answer yes, at least as far as I know. ‘Course if you don’t like it, being the new mistress and all, you could make him move out, but I don’t think you’d want to do that. A good plantation manager is hard to come by, and Mr. Thornton is said to be the best around. He might take it into his head to leave Briarwood if he isn’t treated nice. I ‘spect he could find himself another job real easy, since he’s a crop master, too.”

  There was that strange title again, Susanna thought as Corliss concentrated upon sweeping her hair back from her forehead and fastening it with an ivory comb. Then the maid reached for a small heated iron with which to curl her long tresses into ringlets, a fashionable style borrowed from the Dutch. Susanna had arranged Camille’s hair in ringlets countless times.

  “What is a crop master?” she queried.

  “Someone who knows everything there is to know about tobo, like Mr. Thornton.”

  “Tobo?”

  “Tobacco. Mr. Thornton’s got planters coming from miles around looking for his advice about growing good leaf. He knows all about transplanting and cutting, curing and prizing. That’s all these Virginians care about, growing their tobo, and they respect any man who can bring in a high-quality crop, year after year. Why, it’s because of Mr. Thornton that your papa’s tobacco has come to be known as Cary’s Finest. Did you know that, Miss Camille?”

  “No. No, I didn’t.” James Cary had never been one for bragging, at least not in his letters to his daughter. Susanna could not recall ever having heard anything about the special quality of Briarwood’s tobacco, just that the plantation was doing very well.

  “It’s true, sure as I’m standing here,” Corliss went on. “Your papa always treated Mr. Thornton well, probably to thank him, probably because he liked him, too. Treated him just like a son, if you ask me. I remember Master Cary saying once that if there were more planters that worked as hard and as honest as Mr. Thornton, there would be a lot better men in Virginia.”

  Mr. Cary treated Adam like a son? Susanna wondered in disbelief. Surely not. Corliss must be exaggerating.

  “I know Mr. Thornton thought well of Master Cary,” the maid continued, her cheerful tone growing somber as she put the finishing touches on Susanna’s hair. “You should have seen him after the accident. When he found out what had happened to your papa, he punched his fist right through the stable door. He raged and carried on until poor Ertha thought she might have to send for the doctor. After that, he didn’t talk to anyone for days, just kept to
himself …” Corliss sighed as she set down the curling iron. “I’m sorry, Miss Camille. Here I am carrying on myself, talking your ear off.”

  “It’s all right, Corliss. I don’t mind,” Susanna said, absorbing everything the maid had told her.

  It wasn’t difficult to imagine Adam in such a rage. He seemed to have a lot of emotion boiling inside him, and he was prideful to boot. Yet she supposed she owed him an apology for giving him the impression that he didn’t belong in the house. From what Corliss had said, it sounded as if Adam deserved a lot of the credit for Briarwood’s recent prosperity. If James Cary had granted him a room under his own roof, it wasn’t her place to take it from him.

  Of course, once she was married that might have to change, Susanna quickly amended. Her husband might have his own plantation manager, and then crop master or not, Adam would have to go. Maybe her husband might even be a crop master himself—Adam had said the title usually went to other planters—which would certainly mean that Adam’s services would no longer be needed. She would just have to deal with the situation when she reached it. For now, Adam Thornton could stay.

  “Which pinner would you like to wear, Miss Camille?” Corliss asked, holding up two circular caps, one made of delicate cream lace and the other bordered with an emerald ribbon.

  “I think the one with the ribbon.”

  “That’s the pinner I would have picked, too,” the maid replied, her voice lighthearted again. “It’ll match your gown just perfect.”

  Susanna watched in the large oval mirror as Corliss carefully pinned the cap on the crown of her head. She was satisfied with everything she had learned about Adam so far, but one thing was still bothering her. “Corliss,” she said, looking down at her hands, “you said that Mr. Thornton was well-respected by the planters, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did, Miss Camille. Why, you’d think he was a rich planter himself, they treat him so well, accepting him practically as one of their own kind.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he’s invited to their doings, for one thing. Balls and picnics and such, though he ain’t got much time for it. Like I said before, any planter would hire Mr. Thornton easy if he could only be coaxed away from Briarwood. I’ve heard tell of rumors going around the county that a few planters might even be willing to part with their daughters and some land to have a crop master like Mr. Thornton in the family.”

  So, that would explain what Adam had said about courting the gentry’s women, Susanna thought, feeling a sudden shiver. It was simply amazing to her that a planter would allow his daughter to marry so beneath herself, and all for the sake of growing better tobacco. Then again, from what she knew of the English gentry, their daughters were often married off for such mercenary reasons. Yet would one marry a common hired man like Adam Thornton, with no land of his own and probably little money?

  “A planter’s daughter would surely be a prize for a man who used to wield a hoe in the tobo fields,” Corliss added, stepping back from the dressing table to survey her handiwork. “An indentured servant one day, marrying into the gentry the next.”

  “Mr. Thornton was an indentured servant?” Susanna asked, startled.

  She had once considered selling herself into indenture, years ago when she was only eleven, another wild scheme she had briefly entertained as a way to escape her father’s brutality. But when she had found out that she would not be free again until she was at least twenty-one years old, she had changed her mind. So many years in servitude seemed too dear a price to pay to one so young, no matter how desperate.

  Nodding, Corliss gave a final twist to one of Susanna’s curls. “Mr. Thornton has never said a word about his servant days, Miss Camille, ‘cept that he worked in the fields. I did overhear him telling Master Cary not long after he hired on here that he came from England with his parents when he was thirteen and that their indentures were bought by another planter, Mr. Dominick Spencer. I didn’t hear anything else because Ertha caught me listening outside the library door and boxed my ears good.” She chuckled softly. “I was only thirteen then myself.”

  Intrigued by this new information, Susanna couldn’t seem to stop her questions. “Does this Mr. Spencer live around here?”

  A knowing smile crept over Corliss’s lips. “Not too close, but not too far, either. His place is about fifteen miles upriver, near the town of West Point. He’s a widower, you know, and as rich as the day is long. He’s got the finest house on the York, ‘cept for this one, the finest racehorses, the finest everything. He’s real handsome, too, and a well-respected gentleman. Member of the governor’s council.”

  Susanna hadn’t expected such a complete list of the man’s attributes. “Corliss, how do you know all this?”

  The young woman shrugged, her dark eyes full of humor. “We talk in the kitchen, Ertha, Prue, and the rest of us housemaids. We know you’ll be looking for a husband soon, and he’s said to be looking for a wife. We just put two and two together, though don’t take me wrong, Miss Camille, I’m not saying he’s the right one for you. You might very well want a younger man, seeing as Mr. Spencer is in his forties—”

  Corliss fell abruptly silent when someone knocked softly on the door.

  “Miss Camille, it’s Ertha. I just wanted to let you know that dinner will be served in a few minutes.”

  “Oh, no, I’ve kept you too long with all my chatter.” Corliss glanced at the china clock on the mantel, which read exactly three o’clock. “Ertha will scold me for sure.”

  “No, she won’t,” Susanna said with a reassuring smile as she rose from the dressing table. “I’ll just explain that we were becoming acquainted.”

  She took a last look at herself in the mirror and was amazed at her transformation. Now that she had someone to help her dress and arrange her hair, she looked like a real lady. She could hardly wait until Saturday to see the reactions of the gentlemen, young and old, who might come to call.

  ***

  “Did you enjoy the meal, Miss Camille?” Prue asked, clasping her plump hands together as she stood at one end of the lengthy dining table. Her expression was doubtful as she surveyed Susanna’s plate, which remained nearly full.

  “The food was wonderful, Prue. Really,” Susanna said, feeling bad that she hadn’t eaten more.

  In truth, the little of the braised lamb, herbed vegetables, and buttered new potatoes she had tasted had been excellent, but after subsisting on thin, watery soup and dry bread for the past several weeks, she had only half her normal appetite. Between that and the tightness of her stays, she had managed only a few bites before she was full. No wonder Camille had always eaten like a sparrow. And Susanna had thought it was simply due to proper table manners!

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to eat more in a few days, once I’m used to good cooking again,” she explained, glad when Prue’s face brightened. “The food aboard ship …” She grimaced, which seemed to convince the cook that her expertise was not at fault.

  “I can well imagine it was terrible. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” Prue said sympathetically, clucking her tongue as she removed Susanna’s plate. “I’ll just save the wild strawberry tart for a light supper, then, and the rest of the food for Mr. Thornton. I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he returns later in the day.”

  “That will be fine, Prue. Thank you.”

  Susanna glanced at the empty chair to her right where a place setting had been laid for Adam. Ertha had already explained why he would be absent for dinner. It seemed the life of a plantation manager was a demanding one.

  Actually, when she had heard that he had ridden out to deal with a problem in some distant tobacco fields, she had been disappointed. She had wanted to apologize to him for her behavior earlier, and, more selfishly, to see his reaction to her appearance. He wasn’t a gentleman, but he was a man, after all. If he liked the way she looked, she could imagine what her prospective suitors would think on Saturday.

  Determined to become better acquainted
with her new surroundings, Susanna went into the library, where she spent several pleasant hours browsing through the vast collection of books. She was so glad that she had learned to read, for she enjoyed it immensely.

  A favorite pastime of hers and Camille’s had been to curl up in the window seats and read to each other—poetry, Shakespeare, and occasionally a romantic novel if Susanna could buy one from a traveling bookseller. Lady Redmayne had caught her with such a book once and before tossing it into the fire had proclaimed it complete drivel and a poor excuse for literature. But Susanna and Camille had known better.

  They had laughed and sighed and even shed tears over the trials and tribulations of the heroes and their beautiful ladies, and rejoiced when the lovers were happily united in the end. Yet, when the book was closed, both of them knew in their hearts that such romantic love had little to do with their own lives, where pragmatism and a sense of duty ruled. It was still pleasant, however, to escape once in a while into a world where love and its fulfillment need be the only considerations.

  After a while, Susanna began to feel restless and decided a walk outside in the fresh air would do her good. It was almost six o’clock, but there was still plenty of sunlight left to this long summer day.

  As she exited the French doors at the rear of the house, she thought how wonderful it was not to feel a ship swaying and pitching beneath her feet. She strolled quietly along the bricked paths and resplendent flower beds all the way down to the riverbank, where she sat upon a marble bench beneath a gigantic spreading oak tree and gazed out across the water.

  It was so peaceful here in the shade. Instead of thundering waves, creaking wood, and the coarse cries of sailors going about their work, she heard sweet, trilling birdsong, the gentle lap of water against the grassy shoreline, and the distant muted sounds of plantation life. The air was warm, but not too much so, and fragrant with the scents of roses and gardenias carried upon a gentle breeze.