“We’re all glad you’re back, Master Thorn. We surely have needed you to come home. Now that you are here things are a’gonna get better, I just know it.”
He smiled at her. “I have taken the first steps to make things better, Matty. I have taken a wife. I think you will like her.”
The woman’s dark eyes glowed, and she beamed happily. “Now ain’t that a grand thing you’ve done? I’m happy for you, Master Thorn.”
He stretched out his long legs and smiled tiredly. “You might want to inform the others about my new bride. I wouldn’t want them to think there is a strange woman sleeping in my bed.”
Matty’s laughter was muted when she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Yes, sir, I’ll do just that.” She chuckled to herself as she moved out of the room and into the hallway, wondering how the mistress would take to having another woman in the house, especially one who was younger and probably much prettier. Since Matty had no liking for the mistress, she hoped it would trouble her quite a bit.
Wilhelmina stormed down the hall, her lips pressed together tightly. She encountered the upstairs maid, Livia. Taking the girl by surprise, she grabbed a handful of hair and gave it a hard yank.
“Why was I not informed immediately that Thorn brought a woman into this house?” she demanded. “It’s your duty to keep me informed of everything that happens.”
Livia squirmed in pain. “I don’t know much ’bout no woman. I just know that my mama told me that Master Thorn got himself married.”
Wilhelmina flung the frightened girl out of the way. “We’ll just see about that!” Her eyes were burning with anger. “I will not have it!”
Brittany was in a deep sleep and did not hear Wilhelmina when she entered the bedroom. She did not know that Thorn’s stepmother was watching her with an expression of naked hatred. Innocently, she lingered in her dream world, unaware that she was the object of such intense loathing.
Wilhelmina ground her teeth together as she looked at the golden hair spilled across the snowy-white pillowcase. She looked at the even features and the long silky lashes that curled at the tips.
She balled her fists, resisting an urge to destroy the beautiful girl who was Thorn’s wife. This girl represented everything that Wilhelmina was not—young, innocent, beautiful. And she had Thorn.
Brittany’s eyes fluttered open slowly, and she found a strange woman staring at her. Her green eyes reflected her discomfort, and she sat up, brushing a tumbled curl away from her face.
“H-ello,” Brittany stammered. “Who are you?”
Wilhelmina stabbed the air. “I am mistress of this house, and I demand to know what are you doing in Thorn’s bed?”
Brittany realized that the woman had drawn a wrong conclusion. “It is not as bad as it appears, madame. You see, I am Thorn’s…wife.”
“So I have been informed, but I had to clarify it for myself.” Wilhelmina’s voice held a note of spitefulness as she trailed her finger across the empty side of the bed. “If last night was your wedding night, it must have been a disappointment to you.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes narrowed. “I have been told that your new bridegroom did not share your marriage bed, since he spent the night with his father. Poor girl, it must have been so frustrating for you, hmm?”
Brittany slid off the bed and pulled on her dressing gown. She was feeling uncomfortable under the woman’s close inspection, and she was certain she detected undertones in the woman’s voice. “How is your husband this morning, Mrs. Stoddard? I do hope his condition is much improved.”
There was something regal about the way Thorn’s wife held herself, and that further enraged Wilhelmina. “How should I know? Thorn is the one to ask,” she replied in a surly voice. “He has put himself in charge of my husband.”
Brittany tried to ignore the woman’s biting tone. “What should I call you, Mrs. Stoddard?”
“What!” Wilhelmina’s mouth opened in surprise. “Thorn has not told you my name?”
“No. Thorn told me nothing about you. I knew only that his own mother died and that you are his stepmother.”
Now Wilhelmina’s anger knew no bounds. “So, Thorn thought me such an insignificant part of his life that he did not mention me to his wife.”
“I…am certain—”
Wilhelmina held up her hand to silence Brittany. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned into a vengeful smile. “Of course Thorn has his reasons for not telling you about me. You will hear why he had to leave Stoddard Hill in the first place.” Her laughter sounded evil and high-pitched. “Yes, it is clear to me that Thorn would not want you to know what we have been to one another in the past.”
Brittany blinked her eyes in confusion. Then slowly she understood what the woman was inferring, and a sick feeling washed over her. “Are you saying that you and my husband…that you and Thorn…”
“Were lovers?” Wilhelmina supplied. “Is it so hard for you to say?”
Brittany turned toward the window, needing a breath of fresh air. “Madame, nothing you can say will make me believe anything bad about Thorn. He is a man of honor, and I know he would never betray his father as you are implying.”
Wilhelmina shrugged. “If you do not believe me, then you must ask your husband why his father ordered him to leave Stoddard Hill.”
Brittany swung around. “I never will ask such a question of him. If Thorn has something he wants me to know, he will tell me himself.” She raised her head, her eyes boring into Wilhelmina. “I would like it if you left now.”
Wilhelmina almost slithered across the room. “Of course, my dear. You will want time to settle in and become acquainted with your new home.” At the door she turned back to Brittany. “I can assure you that if Thorn were my husband, he would not have spent his wedding night away from my bed.” Spiteful laughter rolled off her lips. “Are you certain that Thorn was with his father last night?”
Before Brittany could answer, the woman swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Brittany leaned out the window, taking in deep gulps of air. Never had she met such a disgusting creature. Nothing Wilhelmina had said would convince Brittany that she and Thorn had been lovers or that Thorn had spent his wedding night with her, as she implied.
Brittany moved to the side table and splashed water on her face. Thorn would not have asked her to marry him if he loved his stepmother. She shook her head, knowing there was something evil about that woman. Thorn needed her, she could sense it, and she was not going to turn against him now.
She dressed quickly. Then with a determined lift to her head, she walked into the hall where she encountered one of the servants.
“Good morning, ma’am. My name is Livia, and Master Thorn has asked me to look after you. Will you be wanting breakfast in your room?”
Brittany looked into smiling dark eyes. “Where is my husband?”
“He said to tell you he was going into town. Said you would know why.” Her brow came together in thoughtfulness. “He said he wouldn’t be back until tonight.”
“How is my husband’s father?”
“He’s sickly, mighty sickly.”
Brittany stood undecided for a moment. Without Thorn, a long day stretched before her. “I will not be wanting breakfast, thank you. I just want to walk about the grounds and see the plantation.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you want something, just ask for me.”
“Thank you, Livia. I shall.”
Brittany stood on the small bridge and gazed out at the fields. She sensed something was not right at Stoddard Hill. There was too much idleness. Men lounged in front of the stables while the work went undone. The women appeared to be busy enough, but not in doing anything that would benefit Stoddard Hill.
She walked past the slave quarters, nodding to women who stared back at her with interest. Several dark-skinned children who were playing games under the branches of a wide oak tree stopped to stare at her with open curiosity.
When Brittany reached the last cabin, sh
e came upon an old woman sitting in the shade of a wagon, her gnarled hands weaving a delicate basket out of colored straw. She watched the woman with fascination.
“How do you do that?” Brittany inquired, bending down to get a closer look.
The woman’s face was stoic. “Been doing it for over eighty years. My mother did it a’fore me, and her mother a’fore her,” the woman answered with a feeling of pride.
Brittany glanced at the many baskets that the woman had already completed. They were all in different shapes, and apparently had different uses. “What a wonderful craft. Do you think I could learn to weave the straw?”
The old woman looked at her skeptically. “You wouldn’t be wanting to spoil your pretty hands. This here’s hard work, and the straw cuts deep into the skin.” She held her hands up for Brittany’s inspection. “I have calluses on my hands and they are as tough as the back of a mule. This may look like play, but it’s hard work.”
Brittany nodded her golden head. “I can see that. Would you consider teaching me?”
The woman’s proud head raised up, and she stuck out her chin. “You the new missus?”
Brittany smiled. “I am sorry, I did not introduce myself. I am Brittany, Thorn’s wife.”
“Thought so.” The dark eyes softened. “That Master Thorn, he was always a good one. His pa is good, too. The old master always let me sell my baskets and keep the money.”
Brittany dropped down on the doorstep, startling the old woman. “What is your name?” she asked.
“My name’s Esmeralda,” she stated. “Now ain’t that a fancy name for such as me?”
“It’s a very pretty name.”
Esmeralda was beginning to lose some of her suspicion of Brittany. “I’ve seen many changes in my life. My birthday’s in two months, and I’ll be a hundred and two. Now ain’t that a great amount of time to live?”
“That is splendid, Esmeralda. Your birthday should be worthy of a great celebration.”
“Yes’em, it should. If the old master wasn’t ailing, he’d plan a gathering and have us all singing and dancing, and I reckon there would be a goodly amount of food.”
“I have not yet met my father-in-law,” Brittany said sadly, “but I know how ill he is, and how concerned Thorn is about him.”
Intelligent old eyes that had seen much in life pierced Brittany. “You ain’t from around here, ’cause I’d a’knowed about it iffen you was.”
“No, I was not born in this country.”
“Thought so. Iffen you was born in the South, you wouldn’t be so friendly with the likes of me, and you wouldn’t be sitting beside me, neither.”
Brittany was startled. “Why ever not? What have you done wrong?”
Esmeralda rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know the white folks from the big house don’t socialize with the slaves? It just ain’t done.”
Brittany smiled at the old woman and drew an answering toothless smile. “My husband would tell you that I never do what’s expected of me.” She ran her finger along the rim of a straw basket. “Now show me how to make this. I want to do something useful today.”
Esmeralda chuckled. She was old enough not to fear speaking her mind. “You sure are going to set them on their ear at the big house. I wish I could’a seen the mistress’s face when she met you for the first time. Yes’em, that must have been a right nice sight.”
Brittany wrinkled her nose. “I do not think Mrs. Stoddard liked me very well.”
The old slave’s eyes were intense. “You have a care where she is concerned now. It just ain’t good to poke a stick at a snake.”
Brittany hid a smile. She did not think she should encourage Esmeralda’s assessment of Thorn’s stepmother, even though she agreed with the old woman.
She picked up the basket Esmeralda had been working on, and attempted to poke the straw through the loose weave. “As you will find out, Esmeralda, I have a habit of finding trouble and always doing the wrong thing.”
Esmeralda had never shared the secret of her craft with anyone but her daughter and her granddaughters. But now she took the young mistress’s hands and guided them. “You take the long yellow grasses—they’re called bulrushes—and just do what I do. Have a care now, they’re sharp.”
At first Brittany’s hands were clumsy, and she cut her fingers several times. But she was determined to learn the craft. Soon she and Esmeralda were laughing and talking like old friends, and she was learning about Stoddard Hill.
As the morning progressed, several of the other women gathered around, astonished that the young mistress should take the time to be kind to old Esmeralda. But more astonishing still was that old Esmeralda seemed to like Master Thorn’s wife.
At last Brittany proudly held the finished basket up for all to inspect, while Esmeralda nodded in approval.
Suddenly Brittany looked at the position of the sun and saw that it was late afternoon. She stood up, dreading the thought of going back to that house and facing Thorn’s stepmother.
“Thank you, Esmeralda, for your patience.” She held the basket out to the old woman, but Esmeralda pushed her hand away.
“You keep the basket. Show it to Master Thorn.” She chuckled. “And tell him old Esmeralda thinks he married well.”
Brittany clutched the basket in her hands and smiled at the old woman. “I hope he already knows that, but if he does not, I’ll tell him you said so.”
As several pairs of black eyes watched Brittany move toward the big house, Esmeralda muttered under her breath, “There’s a’gonna be trouble coming—I can feel trouble in these ole bones.”
“There’s a’gonna be trouble for sure,” one of the other woman agreed. “Mistress Wilhelmina ain’t gonna like no pretty young woman messing round here.”
Esmeralda nodded. “I think I’ll just keep an eye on the big house. If any of you see any unusual happenings, report them to me. I don’t want nothing to happen to the little mistress.”
Chapter Twenty-five
When Brittany entered the house, she carried the basket Esmeralda had helped her weave as if it were a priceless treasure.
Wilhelmina heard Brittany in the hall, and came out of the parlor, her face livid with anger. “Where have you been? I disrupted the whole house hold to search for you.”
Brittany glanced behind Wilhelmina and saw a man staring at her. She held out her treasure for inspection. “I have learned to craft a basket.”
Wilhelmina went into peals of uproarious laughter. “How quaint.” She turned to the man beside her. “Dr. Cross, this is Thorn’s little wife. It seems there is no end to this girl’s talents. See, she has made a basket.”
Brittany felt the sting of the older woman’s ridicule, but she did not know the reason for it. She had never known anyone who would deliberately set out to hurt another. Her head came up, and she faced the slender, bold man who looked her over from head to toe.
“I am pleased to meet you, Dr. Cross. How is my father-in-law?”
Wilhelmina saw George Cross’s eyes widen with admiration as he held his hand out to Brittany. When Brittany did not offer him her hand in return, he awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Stoddard. I only wish it had been under happier circumstances. I regret to tell you that my patient is not doing well at all.”
Brittany’s eyes clouded with sadness, and she looked at Wilhelmina. “I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do to help you, please tell me.”
Brittany’s genuine concern served to further fuel Wilhelmina’s anger. “What can you or any of us do? I fear Ben has not long to live.”
“If you will excuse me, I will go to my room,” Brittany said.
Wilhelmina blocked her path, and asked in a demanding voice: “When will Thorn be home?”
“Not before dark. Do you feel the need to send for him?”
Wilhelmina considered for a moment, and she smiled to herself. Perhaps it would be better if Thorn was away from Stodd
ard Hill when his father died. “No, that will not be necessary. Run along to your room and wait for your husband.” Wilhelmina sneered. “Perhaps Thorn will be a more attentive lover tonight—but don’t count on it.”
Brittany pushed past Thorn’s stepmother, needing to get away from her vicious tongue. Her heart was heavy as she moved up to the second floor.
She stopped before Mr. Stoddard’s door, wishing there was something she could do to help. When she reached Thorn’s bedroom, she sank down in a chair, feeling defeated for the first time in her life. Not even when she had been captured by the Turks had she felt this utter devastation. Was it possible that Thorn and Wilhelmina had been lovers? What if they still were?
She refused to dwell on such troubling possibilities, but thought instead of her mother and Simijin—how she missed them. Her thoughts turned to Achmed. Where was he? Was he even alive?
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She also was worried about a man she had never met and could not even put a face to. She hoped fervently that Thorn’s father would recover, but the doctor had not been encouraging. She pitied the poor man, for apparently his wife was not overly concerned about him. In fact, Wilhelmina seemed only concerned about her own comforts.
Wilhelmina whirled around and faced George Cross. “I will not have that girl here,” she raged. “How dare Thorn do this to me.”
The doctor’s face was a mirror of amusement. “I don’t believe Thorn has done anything against you. I think rather he has made that enchanting creature his wife for reasons of his own. I can’t say I blame him.”
Wilhelmina’s eyes sparked with unleashed anger. “I would expect you to think her kind beautiful. I saw you fawning over her like some sniveling schoolboy.”
George Cross wisely changed the subject. “The old man is getting weaker. Considering the amount of poison I am administering to him, he should be out of your way within a week—perhaps sooner.”
Enchantress Page 24
