“I don’t agree,” Jane said, “but that doesn’t matter. I’ll speak to Reuben. He’s bound to find some other girl willing to take your place.”
“No!” Delilah said. Her tone stopped Jane whose hand was on the doorknob. “I’ll go.”
“Are you sure? Once you leave here, you can’t very well change your mind again.”
“I’m sure. I owe it to Captain Shays.”
The admiration in Jane’s eyes made Delilah even more miserable. How could she tell her sister-in-law she didn’t want to go because she was attracted to Nathan Trent? Even worse, how could she admit she was going because she couldn’t stand the thought of another woman going in her place?
When Delilah stepped out of the house, Nathan wondered if he had been asleep the morning she’d come to Maple Hill or if a completely different woman stood before him.
He shuffled his feet. His heart beat a little faster. She was wearing the same simple style of dress as her sister-in-law, but all similarities stopped mere. Whereas Jane’s face showed the strain of bearing three children, Delilah’s was as flawless as that of a young woman being introduced to London society.
How could he have fooled himself into thinking he could remain indifferent to her presence at Maple Hill? His aunt and cousin certainly wouldn’t be.
Even though he was powerfully affected by Delilah’s physical allure, it was the look in her dark blue eyes that riveted his attention. Though she schooled her expression into impassivity, her eyes made him think of a wild creature coming face to face with its hunter. Did she think he was going to ravish her the moment he got her to Maple Hill?
Maybe not, but he’d bet fifty guineas Reuben did. The big man stepped up so close their noses almost touched, his eyes glaring at Nathan, murder in their depths.
“I’ll not have any man look at my sister that way” he thundered.
“Unless you plan to put blinders on every man in Massachusetts, you’d better keep her locked away,” Nathan replied. “She’s a lovely woman.”
“I’ll not have her taken lightly either. Touch her and I’ll …
“Stop it, Reuben,” Delilah’s voice was clear and firm. “Mr. Trent is new to Massachusetts,” she said, shifting her gaze from her brother to Nathan. “Maybe he doesn’t know it’s rude to stare.”
“I know it all right,” Nathan confessed with a wry grin. “I just can’t do much about it.”
Delilah’s cheeks flamed pink.
“You must promise not to mistreat my sister-in-law, Mr. Trent,” Jane said. “I’d throw myself on public charity before ill let her be dishonored.”
Oh God, he hadn’t latched on to one of those ranting Puritan families, had he? If Delilah started preaching at Aunt Serena, it would be easier to live in Bedlam than at Maple Hill.
He struggled to get his temper under control. “You are welcome to come by at any time to assure yourself she’s not being mistreated. However” be added, hoping to forestall any intention Reuben might have of camping on his doorstep or Jane might entertain of making the trip a daily pilgrimage, “I hope you won’t make your visits either so frequent or so long as to interfere with the performance of her duties.”
“You just be careful what kind of duties you’re talking about” Reuben warned. “My sister’s a gently raised girl.”
“We don’t overwork our servants,” Nathan snapped.
“She’s not a servant!” Reuben roared. “Not to you or anybody else.” He started forward aggressively, but Nathan held his ground.
Delilah wasn’t listening. No one had ever called her a lovely woman. And to have this gorgeous man say it, as if it should be perfectly obvious to everyone, shocked her. Her heart beat faster, and a flush again stained her cheeks. But Reuben’s menacing movement brought her out of her abstraction.
“Fetch my trunk, Reuben.” The unexpected sharpness of her command caused her brother to turn back to her.
“What need can you have of so many clothes?”
“I’m promised for four months. It’ll be winter before I get back. Hurry,” Delilah urged when her brother seemed unwilling to move. “I’m sure Mr. Trent is anxious to reach home before dark.”
Reuben’s sons, silent the whole time, peering at Nathan from behind their mother’s skirts, ran forward when Delilah knelt down and held out her arms. They buried their faces in her shoulders, and she held them tight, one arm around each child.
“You be good boys while I’m gone” she said, a catch in her throat. “Remember, Daniel, you promised to watch out for David when the baby comes. Your mama won’t have much time with the not here to help. She’s going to depend on you.” She turned to David. “And you make sure you mind your brother.” Nathan was certain the child couldn’t be much more than a year old.
Reuben emerged from the house, carrying an enormous trunk Nathan guessed was made of solid oak and lined with cedar. The huge man easily lifted it into the back of the buggy and secured it into place with rapid, jerky movements, a clear sign of his still dangerous mood. The boys scampered for the safety of their mother’s skirts at the sound of their father’s angry voice.
“You can be off now without fear of the dark overtaking you,” he said scornfully, “And if anything happens to my sister—”
“Rest easy, Reuben,” Delilah interrupted. “I’ll be home before Christmas. Then we can put this out of our minds.”
Delilah tried not to look back as the buggy pulled out of the yard. She told herself four months wasn’t a long time, but right now it stretched endlessly before her. Every turn of the buggy’s wheels seemed to be carrying her irrevocably away from that small farmhouse. She couldn’t quell the foreboding sense that, for her, there would be no way back.
She sat, staring straight ahead at the rough track they followed between fields and through woods. She didn’t dare let herself look at the man seated beside her; she tried not to even think about him, but her body was so thoroughly alert to his presence she started to wonder if she might not be coming down with a fever. She had never felt so peculiar in all her life.
It had taken all her courage to step out of the house. She supposed she was still too upset to react normally. Young, rich, and handsome, Nathan Trent was the image of the man she had dreamed of all her life, and—she could admit it now even though the very thought shamed her—if he hadn’t been a hated Englishman and a grasping, greedy landowner, she might have fallen head over heels in love with him the minute she’d clapped eyes on him.
His arm brushed her sleeve. It was an almost indiscernible pressure, but it felt like the rending of the heavens to Delilah. Her whole body tensed, and a shaft of heat buried itself deep in her abdomen.
The thought of having to sit next to him for a whole hour demolished her composure. It was mortifying that she, Delilah Stowbridge, who had always been considered such a sensible girl, one not likely to be overset by trifles, certainly nothing so insignificant as working in the home of a perfect stranger and spying on him, should have her wits scattered by a mere touch.
The buggy lurched under them. With a pithy curse, Nathan jumped down to inspect the wheel that had bounced through a deep mudhole.
“I’m amazed it isn’t broken,” he said. It seems to me this country is little more than a series of tiny farms joined by nearly impassable lanes.”
“You don’t have rutted lanes in England?” Delilah asked, her pride stung.
“Farms in England are part of a proper estate. The landlord sees the roads are kept up.”
“I’m sure the General Session would be glad to put the roads in your care.”
She was being sarcastic again. Why did she always have to take everything he said as a personal insult?
“I don’t have time.”
Then I suppose you’ll have to put up with the ruts.”
Delilah lapsed into stony silence, leaving Nathan irritated and perplexed.
He climbed back in the buggy, but he had hardly gotten under way when a horse and rider mater
ialized out of the woods.
“Hey, you mere, stop!”
Nathan didn’t know the man on horseback, and he couldn’t think of a reason for his pugnacious tone of voice, but he obligingly pulled his buggy to a halt.
“Colonel Lucius Clarke,” Delilah hissed through motionless lips. “A big landowner and a bigger mouth.” Nathan glanced at her in sharp surprise.
“I hear you’ve forgiven Stowbridge’s debt,” Clarke bellowed without so much as a glance at Delilah. “You can’t do that.”
Nathan was dumbfounded that a perfect stranger should know his business, no matter how imperfectly, but he was appalled that the man would attempt to interfere in it. Clarke didn’t seem to be particularly ill bred, but Nathan sensed a kind of low cunning about him. There was also an aggressive sense of the self-righteousness.
“I’m Nathan Trent, Ezra Buel’s nephew.”
“I know who you are,” the man said, chafing at the delay. “I’m Colonel Lucius Clarke, and I want to know what you mean to do about this Stowbridge business.”
Nathan was tempted to say he’d be damned if he would explain his affairs to anyone, but that wouldn’t win him any friends or give him the information he needed. “Why should what I do be any interest of yours?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.
Colonel Clarke looked at Nathan as if he were a simpleton. “You hold twice as many loans as the rest of us. Anything you do, they’ll expect the rest of us to do.”
Nathan decided he disliked Colonel Lucius Clarke more than anybody he’d met since he’d come to Massachusetts. “But you don’t have to follow me, do you?”
“Dammit, man, you may be nothing but a scurvy Redcoat, but you can’t be that stupid. Surely you’ve heard what they’re saying in the General Court. Things are so bad some of them want to pass a law forgiving all debts under five pounds.”
The feeling of rage that surged through Nathan’s body was so hot he couldn’t think for a moment. In his mind’s eye he pictured legions of nameless colonists conspiring to destroy him, and he made a silent oath that no matter what he had to do, he would never let that happen again.
“For God’s sake man, don’t sit there like you’re deaf. Can’t you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Of course I can,” Nathan replied when he felt he could control his voice. “What can we do to prevent it?” Even the mutinous Colonel Clarke seemed surprised by the intensity of his response.
“We’re gathering to decide.”
“You’re welcome to meet at Maple Hill.” He could feel Delilah tense.
“Thanks.” Clarke’s stern face broke into an unexpected smile. “Glad to know you’re with us.”
“Where else would I be?”
“I wasn’t sure, not with you letting Stowbridge off.”
“I’m not. My aunt needs more help in the house, and his sister offered to work off the debt. I’m taking her to Maple Hill now.”
Clarke ignored Delilah. “Don’t do it. It’ll cause trouble.”
Nathan felt the hot tide of anger rise in him again. “Would you be willing to take my advice on how to handle your affairs?” he asked in a deceptively bland voice.
“Hell, I’d be crazy to listen to every fool who wanted to stick his nose in my business.”
“Then you’ll understand why I’ll not be following yours. I shall expect to hear from you about the meeting. Good day.”
Nathan slapped the reins, and the horse started off at a brisk trot. He had the pleasure of seeing Lucius Clarke’s face suffuse with rage before he pulled away.
Nathan’s apparent anger at Colonel Clarke was only a tithe of the rage Delilah felt. The colonel had ignored her, acted as though she wasn’t there. Not even Nathan had done that. She and Clarke were Americans, they were supposed to stick together, and here he couldn’t wait to get together with Nathan. She wouldn’t mind spying on Clarke—or anybody else like him.
It did her soul good to see his face grow purple with fury as they drove off. It also pleased her that Nathan didn’t agree with everything Clarke had said. He’d gone against advice to let her work off Reuben’s debt. What else would he do, given the proper impetus?
Nathan couldn’t help but realize the meeting with Clarke had made an adverse impression on Delilah. Just offering a place to hold the meeting was probably enough to damn him forever in her eyes.
You can’t afford to take a personal interest in everyone with a sad story to tell, especially not this girl. You get her settled at Maple Hill as quickly as possible, and then put her out of your mind. But telling himself he ought to have no interest in Delilah, and actually having none were two different things.
“How old are you?” That wasn’t what he really wanted to know, but it seemed a good place to start.
“I’m turned nineteen,” Delilah replied, wondering why he wanted to know her age.
“The same as my cousin. I hope you will become friends.” If he was going to get her out of his system, he had to find a way to get her off his hands. If she made friends with Priscilla, maybe he could forget her. Yet he was reluctant to do that. It disturbed his conscience to think of setting her down in a strange situation and then ignoring her.
“I’ll make every attempt to please your cousin,” Delilah answered in an even voice, “but I thought the household was your aunt’s responsibility.”
That’s true,” Nathan admitted, wondering if he should warn her about Serena. He decided to wait. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.
They rode in silence for a while longer.
“Tell me about your family,” Nathan asked. He wasn’t particularly interested in her family history, but if he was to get his mind off her nearness, they had to talk about something.
“Reuben is all the close family I have.”
Silence.
“You must have had a mother and father. It was my understanding everybody did.” His attempt at lightness was not returned.
Her story came out in one angry spurt.
“My father was wounded at Saratoga fighting the British. Mother was never the same after he died. When the farm started to slip into debt, she didn’t care. She died before they came to take everything away.”
“I’m sorry… .”
“Reuben was a great hero,” she continued, “but it didn’t do him any good. They didn’t pay him enough to make up for the time he spent away from home or the musket balls they dug out of him. All he could do was buy that pitiful farm.”
“Surely he—”
“It wasn’t enough people like you had to kill my father and mother and take their farm, you had to start in on Reuben,” she said, turning to accuse him.
“Now wait a min—”
“Why can’t you leave him alone?”
Nathan realized it was useless to try to explain that, even though he was English, he had had nothing to do with her father’s death, her mother’s decline, or the loss of their property. If he could keep her talking, maybe she would work off some of her anger toward him. He didn’t relish having such hostility in his house.
“Tell me how Reuben got into trouble. Remember, I just got here,” Nathan explained when he saw her well-stoked wrath about to explode. “There’s a lot I don’t understand just yet.”
“Why should you want to understand? All you have to know is everybody owes you money. If they don’t pay, you can take whatever you want.”
“Indulge me,” Nathan said, wondering how Delilah could show so much anger toward him and still be appealing. “Pretend I’m a friendly uncle you’ve gone to for help.”
“You’re hardly older than Reuben. And you’re not the least friendly or you wouldn’t have threatened to take Reuben’s oxen. Besides, I wouldn’t go to any Englishman alive.”
“Okay, look at it this way,” he said sharply, his patience wearing thin. “We’ve got to spend the next hour in this buggy. If we don’t talk about something, I’ll die of boredom. Then I’ll probably take it out on the horse, or
you.” Delilah turned her startled gaze upon his face. “You’re absolutely burning with reproaches you want to fling at my head. I give you permission to fling away.”
“I don’t know that I can fling them at you, not rightly” she admitted. Now that Nathan had given her permission to blame him for everything, she felt reluctant to do so.
“Don’t worry about who is to blame,” he said, his tone a little less harsh. “Just tell me what happened.”
“It started before the war,” Delilah began, “the War of Independence.” She was unsure of what to say, even why she bothered to say it at all, but she felt a need to explain it to him, to have him understand it wasn’t Reuben’s fault.
“Everybody thought once we drove the British out, things would be all right.” She looked down at her hands rather than at Nathan. It was hard to talk about the British, knowing he was one of them. “Instead, they got worse.”
“Why?”
“King George wouldn’t let us sell anything to England, only buy. Then the merchants demanded we pay with gold. Pretty soon we didn’t have any left. So the states started printing paper money. They even paid their soldiers with it. Reuben thought he was being smart to turn his into land right off, but then the cost of everything started going up and the price of what he could grow went down. Nobody would take paper money anymore, and nobody had gold. The taxes got so high people could hardly pay them.”
“Is that what happened to Reuben?”
Delilah fell silent a moment.
“Reuben’s a good farmer, and Jane is a good manager, but, well you see, Reuben likes to do things for people. Nothing much, just a few pennies once in a while, but money never stays in his pocket. When it came time to pay the taxes, he didn’t have enough.”
“So he borrowed what he needed from my uncle and couldn’t pay him back.”
Delilah nodded her head. She couldn’t help but feel ashamed of her brother’s debt. It was a blow to their pride.
“Whose idea was it that you work for me?”
Delilah’s head jerked up. “Mine. Do you think Reuben or Jane would have suggested such a thing, even if they had thought of it? They’d starve first.”
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