“Come on,” Mrs. Stebbens said. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“You supposed to be cooking supper, not gallivanting about no garden.”
“There won’t be any cooking without vegetables,” Mrs. Stebbens grumbled as she searched in the cupboard for the particular bowl she wanted. “Wouldn’t be any needed either if Mr. Trent would take a cold supper like civilized folks. When I agreed to cook for Mr. Buel, I never knew I’d be working for some foreigner who’d want hot food all hours of the day. You’d think that much to eat in the middle of me night would give me man nightmares.”
“Sleeps like a baby from all I can tell,” Lester said.
“I don’t much care for that man,” Mrs. Stebbens said to Delilah as they made their way to a kitchen garden.
“These peas are cold,” Serena said the moment Delilah set the bowl on the table. “I told Lester you were to bring the food to the table the minute it was done.”
Delilah gaped at Serena. She could see the steam rising from the bowl.
Nathan raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question. “You should try eating your dinner in England,” he said. “Half the time the grease is hard in the dish by the time it reaches me table.”
“I wouldn’t tolerate it,” Serena stated emphatically.
“You’d get used to it,” Nathan replied. “Or not eat.”
He had done no more than glance at Delilah during the meal, but she thought she detected a note of sympathy in his voice. Serena must have heard it too because she unwisely decided to pursue the topic.
“I never admired the English,” she stated, completely ignoring the fact that she had been born in England herself, “but I should hope they have better servants. This girl is useless.”
“Why?”
“Just look at her.”
Nathan sat forward in his chair and scrutinized Delilah intently. A flush rose in her cheeks.
“Speaking purely from a man’s point of view, I find her appearance quite pleasing.”
Delilah’s cheeks flamed pink.
“Go wait for the next course,” Serena snapped at her. “And make sure it arrives hot.”
The peas are hot, Mother,” Priscilla said after Delilah had left the room. “They burned my tongue.”
“What do you mean her appearance is pleasing?” Serena demanded of her nephew, ignoring her daughter. “She has no notion how to carry herself …”
Nathan’s mind filled with the picture of Delilah’s upright carriage and the way it thrust her young breasts well forward.
“… her hair is too thick and long …”
He could imagine the clean scent of her luxuriant dark tresses as he buried his face in her neck.
“… her skin is actually brown …”
He longed to touch her shoulders to see if they felt as soft and smooth as they looked.
“ … and that dress is an embarrassment.”
Unburdened by thick layers of cloth and whalebone stays, the dress clung to Delilah’s limbs, delineating every part of her body as she moved. Nathan’s own body tightened in response to visualizing that.
“I would be embarrassed for her to serve any of my friends.”
Nathan forced himself to focus on his aunt. “Then let Lester do all the serving or provide her with new clothes. Priscilla can teach her deportment. You can even offer to cut and style her hair,” Nathan said, imps of mischief dancing in his eyes. “That way you can be sure it’s just the way you like it.”
“It’s unthinkable I should personally tend a servant,” Serena stated, aghast. “Not even your Uncle Ezra would have suggested that.”
“He never provided you with a servant to tend,” Nathan pointed out. “Lester tells me that until Uncle built this house, you did all the cooking and cleaning.”
Unchivalrously forced from her position, Serena gave vent to the wrath burning inside her. “Ezra was a cruel, tightfisted man. It pleased him to see me work until I was ready to drop.”
“Then be content you no longer have to,” Nathan said. “Servants will do all the better for an occasional word of praise. As for making unfounded accusations …”
Nathan left the sentence unfinished, but his gaze settled unwaveringly on his aunt.
“I like Delilah,” Priscilla said. “Don’t you?”
Nathan felt sure Priscilla had asked that question for a particular reason, but her simple-minded stare obscured any thoughts that might be in her head.
“I hardly know Miss Stowbridge,” Nathan replied, “certainly not well enough to have developed an emotional response to her.”
“But you brought her here in the buggy. An hour is an awfully long time.” There was definitely insinuation in her voice.
“Are you accusing your cousin of improper advances to a farmer’s daughter?” Serena asked, aghast.
Priscilla pouted. “I just said I liked Delilah.”
“Then I hope you will make friends with her,” Nathan said. “She’s bound to feel lonely.”
“She’ll do nothing of the kind,” Serena said. “If that girl is lonely, she can go home.”
Nathan steered the conversation into other channels for the remainder of dinner, but as Lester served the dessert, he said, “I’ll be having quite a few people here on Thursday night. Ask Mrs. Stebbens to prepare some refreshments. You’ll know what kinds they like better than I. We’ll also need extra wine and ale.”
“How many will there be?” Lester asked.
“Who’s coming?” Serena demanded.
“I don’t know, probably about twenty,” Nathan said, answering both of them. “We’ll need Delilah to help serve. Ask her to come in, Lester.”
“That girl’s not presentable,” Serena protested even before the door closed behind Lester.
“The men won’t care,” Nathan told her. “They’re coming to discuss what to do about the court closings. According to some of the people I talked to during this last week, the whole district is on the verge of rebellion.”
“They should all be put in jail,” Serena declared.
“Possibly, but there aren’t enough jails to hold half the male population of western Massachusetts.”
“Are there that many?” Serena asked, her color fading a little. “Will they fight?”
“I don’t know, but they’ve chosen a war hero as a leader, someone by the name of Daniel Shays.”
“Oh my God!” Serena moaned.
“There’s also Luke Day—they tell me he’s a huge man, something of a bully—Adam Wheeler, Job Shattuck, and several others. Do you know any of these people?”
“Of course not,” Serena snapped, “but I’ve heard your uncle talk about them. They’re rough, lawless men. Are you sure there won’t be any fighting?”
“I’m not sure of anything,” Nathan replied.
Delilah came into the dining room during Nathan’s remark. “You asked for me?” she said.
“I just wanted to let you know you are to help Lester with the serving this Thursday.”
“Is that all?”
“It would be nice if you could wear something pretty.”
Delilah bristled at the suggestion. “If I’m not good enough like I am, you can get someone else to carry around your wine and ale.”
“Now see here, young woman, you’re not to talk to us in that way.” Serena was incensed.
“I’m here to work,” Delilah replied, “not to be gawked at by a lot of drunken men.”
“Our guests are never drunken,” Serena insisted.
Nathan gave her a skeptical sidelong glance, but all he said was, “Wear anything you please. It’s just that you’re an attractive woman. That dress doesn’t do you justice.”
Nathan and Delilah stared at each other. How could she stay mad at a man who said she was attractive? Some of her anger evaporated. “It’s the best I’ve got,” she said more quietly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Nathan apologized.
Delilah’s anger
faded still more. “It’s all right. You couldn’t know?
The whole time Delilah helped Mrs. Stebbens with the washing up, she stewed and fumed and simmered. He had no right to expect her to dress up for a lot of his drunken friends to gawk at. And they would be drunk sooner or later. Her uncle owned a tavern, and it seemed that men weren’t capable of going to bed unless they were tipsy.
And Nathan was no different. He drank brandy. A lot if the amount which disappeared every day was any indication. Delilah knew what happened when drunken men got around pretty females, and she made up her mind it wouldn’t happen to her.
But she would love to have a pretty dress. Aside from a natural desire for beautiful clothes, she wanted to look pretty for Nathan even though he hadn’t given her any reason to believe he thought about her any more frequently than he thought about the furniture.
Still he had called her attractive. Fortunately she had been able to keep from blushing. People had always told her she was pretty, but somehow it felt even better when Nathan said it.
She tried to tell herself not to be foolish, that Nathan only cared about how she would appear to other men, but she didn’t want to admit that could be true. She had never been attracted to any man as she was to Nathan Trent. If it turned out he was totally disinterested in her … You’d better keep your mind on your work and off that young man and pretty dresses. You’re just asking for trouble.
But two hours later, as she sat polishing the silver, Delilah hadn’t been able to forget Nathan’s request. In fact, it had become such an obsession that if she had had a dress at home, she would have walked back just to get it.
The opening of the dining-room door startled her. She was surprised to see Priscilla Noyes.
Priscilla paused as though uncertain of what to do. She walked over to where Delilah had laid out each shining utensil on a thick felt cloth.
“Do you have to polish the silver every time it’s used?” she asked.
“Lester says your mother likes to see everything shining.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to do that. I’d bet it ruins your hands.”
“No worse than washing dishes or scrubbing floors.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Priscilla moved around the table letting her finger trail along the edge. Clearly she had more on her mind than polishing silver.
“Why did you get so angry when Nathan asked you to wear a pretty dress?” She didn’t look up, just kept making invisible designs on the table with her finger.
“He had no business asking such a thing.”
“He likes you.”
“He hardly knows I’m around.”
“He knows. His eyes follow you.”
“Only to make sure I’m not late with the next dish,” Delilah said. I’ve never seen a man eat so much and stay so slim.”
“He feels just the opposite about you. He told mother to see you had enough to eat. He seems to think you’re underfed.”
Delilah flushed in mortification. “I don’t eat a lot because I don’t want to,” she said. “It’s a waste to serve as much food as we did tonight. Most of it will be thrown out later.”
Priscilla studied her for a moment, not with the stupid, vacant expression she employed with Nathan or her mother.
Finally she said, “I have a dress I can’t wear anymore. I’ve grown too tall,” she explained before Delilah could protest. “It’s wrong for me—I never looked good in dark colors—but it would suit you just fine.”
Delilah shook her head.
“It’s blue,” Priscilla added. “I heard Nathan tell mother he liked blue best of all.”
“It’s not proper for me to wear your clothes,” Delilah protested.
“Why?”
“I’m only a servant. Your guests will think I’m getting above myself.”
“Those men won’t remember a thing except whether you’re pretty or not.”
“Thank you, but I can’t.”
“Are you sure? I’ve got more man one.”
Delilah was more tempted than she wanted to admit. The chance to wear a real gown, even if it was only one tenth as nice as the pink gown Priscilla now wore, tempted her almost more than she could bear. But she thought of what Reuben and Jane would say.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to give them to somebody else,” Priscilla said. “Do you think Lucy Porter could wear them? Maybe they’re closer to Hope Prentiss’s size.”
Priscilla might as well have stabbed Delilah with a pin.
Hope Prentiss and Lucy Porter, finding themselves unable to attract the attention of the very males Delilah was at pains to fend off, made it a point to constantly remind her of her poverty. When they had turned their poisonous barbs on Delilah’s family, they had earned her perpetual enmity. She could no more think of either of them wearing Priscilla’s blue dress than she could go on breathing.
“I guess I could take one,” she said reluctantly. “But I won’t wear it except when you have company.”
Delilah was stunned to learn that Priscilla meant to give her six dresses.
“You can’t have outgrown all these.”
“Uncle Ezra bought up a lot of cloth. He said it was a waste if Mama didn’t have it all made up.”
“I can still take only one.”
“I’ll put the rest in the room next to yours,” Priscilla said, having failed to talk Delilah into taking a second or third dress in case she spoiled the first. “I need the space,” she explained when Delilah started to protest, “and this way you can take all the time you need to decide which one you really want.”
Delilah felt guilty for even thinking about taking me dresses, but the certainty that otherwise they would go to Lucy or Hope was a wonderful salve to her conscience.
She decided on three.
Chapter Six
The kitchen was in a bustle. Even though Nathan had set supper forward an hour, they had barely finished cleaning up when the guests started to arrive. Lester had been absent for the last hour, taking cloaks and ushering the men into the drawing room where Nathan and Serena waited.
Serena insisted upon being present, even though Nathan had told her the men were there to discuss business. Priscilla took the opportunity to disappear.
“Didn’t they eat before they came?” Delilah asked as Mrs. Stebbens took three meat pies out of the fire.
“It’s Mr. Trent’s orders,” Mrs. Stebbens said, fanning herself from the heat. “Even Mrs. Noyes tried to tell him he was ordering too much food, but he wouldn’t have less. I don’t know what they do in London, but if this is how they eat, I’m surprised there’s a one of them that can heave himself out of his chair.”
“It’s seems a sin to waste so much food,” Delilah said looking at the plates piled high with hot biscuits filled with slices of baked ham, the custard cups, the blackberry pudding with sauce, the aged cheese, and the watermelon and fresh grapes. Every time she served a meal at Maple Hill it reminded her of the meager fare Jane set before her family.
“Where’s that Lester?” Mrs. Stebbens fussed. “I need a tray for these pies.”
“I’ll get it,” Delilah offered.
“What you doing up there, gal?” Lester asked when he found Delilah up on the ladder. “You know you ain’t supposed to handle none of the dishes.”
“I’m looking for a silver tray for Mrs. Stebbens,” she said.
“You don’t use a silver tray for hot pies. It’ll burn your hands before you get it to the parlor. Here, git down and let me do it. You don’t know nothing about which platter to use.”
“Teach me” Delilah fired back. “Then you won’t always have to do things for me.”
“All in good time. Right now you stick to serving.”
“Well, I can’t do that if you won’t allow me to handle the china, can I?”
“No, you can’t,” he said as he took a platter off the shelf and handed it down. “If you take this to the kitchen without breaking it, maybe
I’ll let you carry it into the dining room.”
It’s about time,” Mrs. Stebbens said when Delilah returned with the platter. “Mrs. Noyes will be complaining that the food is cold.”
“Only if I serve it,” Delilah said. “Lester could bring in coagulated grease and she wouldn’t say a word.”
Lester chuckled. “That woman’s made up her mind not to like anything you do. I’d stay out of her sight if I was you.”
“And how is a body to do that,” asked Mrs. Stebbens, “with her dogging Mr. Nathan’s heels like she was afraid he’d make off with the money box if she wasn’t looking? You can’t even ask the man what he wants for breakfast without her chiming in with her piece.”
The bell for the drawing room rang.
“Probably wanting more wine,” Lester said as he hurried away.
“You be careful you don’t spill anything on that dress,” Mrs. Stebbens warned as Delilah carried the last plate into the dining room. “It’ll be a long time before you get another one like it.”
Delilah blushed. She was wearing the blue gown Priscilla had given her. For the one hundredth time she wondered what Nathan would think when he saw her in it.
“I’m so jumpy it’ll be a miracle if I don’t spill something.”
“And it’s not because of those guests,” Mrs. Stebbens said with twinkling eyes. “Maybe you can hide it from the others, but you can’t hide it from me.”
Delilah couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what Mrs. Stebbens was talking about, so she didn’t try. It’s not that I have anything to hide. It’s just that I’m not used to a man dressing like that.”
“Fair sets your blood to boiling, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Stebbens said with a wicked chuckle. “Indecent, I call it, but it makes me feel twenty years younger every time I set eyes on him.”
“Please don’t say anything to Lester.”
“It’s not him you’ve got to worry about. It’s that Mrs. Noyes. If she thinks you’re eyeing Mr. Nathan, she’ll be on you like a cat on a mouse.”
“I’m not eyeing him,” Delilah said. “I merely said I couldn’t be around him and remain unaffected.”
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