Flowers. Roses particularly, but other flowers as well. And talcum. Sam wasn’t sure what other scents lingered on his sheets from that woman who’d been asleep there, but he found them intoxicating and he didn’t want to get out of bed, even though the sun shone through the opening where the drapes hadn’t closed completely last night.
He forced his feet over the side and stretched. Mornings came way too early for his liking, especially after a ball. He splashed water from the ewer onto his face, shocking himself into alertness. Who was the mysterious woman, and why had she been in his bed?
Taking hold of the strop, he gave his razor a few swipes to sharpen it, then mixed some water with his soap to create a good lather. Adjusting his shaving mirror, he brushed the lather on his face.
If she had fallen in the pond, why had she not gotten help from someone? Yet none of the servants had mentioned such a mishap.
He cleaned the stubble from his chin and cheeks, leaving his mustache intact, then splashed more water on his face and used the linen towel on the stand to dry off.
A friend of Dinah’s, but not one he remembered ever meeting before.
He had no objections to meeting her again.
Dinah, however, could never know her friend ended up in his bed. That was not a scandal he wanted to deal with.
He put on a pair of freshly pressed trousers and secured them with his braces. There was a lot of farm business he wanted to go over with his father today before he and his mother returned to Frederick. He tied his stock and rubbed some pomade in his hair to tame it.
The door to his room opened, and Tobias stood there with the coffee tray.
“Thought you might need a little pick me up this morning, sir.”
“You know me too well.” He gratefully took the proffered cup of steaming brew.
“I’m supposed to help you dress and shave, sir.” Tobias frowned at Sam’s half-dressed state.
“I’ve been dressing myself since I was a boy, Tobias. And who says I want you near my throat with a razor?” He teased. They’d grown up together, he may be the master and Tobias the servant, but they behaved more like brothers at times.
“Jonah always helped your father.”
Sam took a swallow of his coffee. “I feel we’ve had this conversation before.” Of course they’d had this conversation before, it had become a regular part of the morning routine. “I am not my father. But if you want to be useful, you can bring me my tan jacket.”
Tobias did as directed, and Sam slid his arms into the sleeves.
“Did our visitor get settled in the green room last night?”
“Yes, sir. And Beck is making sure she has something to wear this morning.”
“Good, good.” Sam adjusted his sleeve cuffs under the jacket. “Have a carriage ready to take her home after breakfast. Perhaps we should send a messenger to let her people know she is here and safe.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send young Lucas.”
Sam didn’t care who he sent as long as the action was taken.
“Fine. See that Moses has two horses ready after breakfast. I want to take a ride around the grounds with my father before he leaves this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”
“No, that will be all for now.”
Tobias left, taking the coffee tray with him.
Sam gave his hair one more smoothing pat and headed to breakfast. He heard rustling noises as he passed the green room. Presumably Beck was getting their visitor ready for the day, which meant that Elizabeth was already dressed, or wished to sleep in. He’d wager she wished to sleep in. He’d have to speak to his parents about her. She was too old for any formal schooling and spent her days either sleeping or visiting with friends. His parents had left her here with him to learn the tasks involved in managing a house so she’d be ready when she was married and had her own house to run. The problem was that not only was she not interested in taking charge, the house slaves had been doing the job so long, that none of them needed any direction. The house purred smoothly along with no input from Elizabeth.
His parents were already downstairs. He could hear their voices rise and fall in conversation, as he approached. The dining room table was set for five, which meant that word had spread to the kitchen staff about the unexpected guest.
“Good morning, Mother.” He stopped by her chair and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Father.” He nodded to his father.
“We were pondering who the fifth place is for, Samuel,” his mother said. “Did George spend the night?”
“No.” He sat down next to the extra place. He’d gotten in the habit of sitting at the head of the table with his father gone, but he certainly wasn’t going to argue his father’s right to that spot. “A friend of Dinah’s apparently had a bit too much of the punch and fell asleep upstairs.”
“Oh dear.” His mother’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “That is unfortunate.”
Sam made no comment. Fortunate, unfortunate, either way, the image of her lying in his bed was probably not going to leave him any time soon.
“We’ll be getting an early start this morning.” His father peered at him over the top of his spectacles and spread jam on a slice of bread.
“We’ll wait until Elizabeth is up, of course,” his mother added, tapping on the shell of her soft-boiled egg with her spoon.
“Then you might not be getting such an early start.” Sam signaled to the serving girl to fill his coffee cup, which she did.
“What do you mean?” his father asked and his mother put down her spoon and leaned forward, waiting for him to go on.
“She’s taken to spending a good portion of the morning in bed.” He watched for their reactions from over top of his coffee cup.
“What does she do with her time?” His mother leaned even closer.
“Not much, as far as I can tell, but,” he added, to be fair, and because he still had to share a house with Elizabeth for the time being, “I’m often out of the house most of the day, perhaps she is busy with things I am not aware of. You had better ask her.”
A movement in the doorway caught his eye, and there stood the woman from last night. She wore one of Elizabeth’s day dresses, a brown and red affair. It looked much better on her than it ever had on Elizabeth. He and his father both stood.
“Welcome,” he said, even though, perhaps, given seniority, it should have been his father who spoke. “Please, join us at table, Miss…” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what name she had given him last night.
“Parks,” the woman said. “Emily Parks.”
She started to sit in the chair that had been pulled out for her, but the front of her skirt bounced up when she sat on her hoop wrong. He stifled the instinct to laugh when her face turned a deep shade of red.
“Oh, Elizabeth sometimes forgets to lift her hoop when she sits, too, dear,” his mother said, so smoothly that no one would think she was giving instruction at all. But, he had never seen his sister have trouble navigate her clothing, at least not since she was out of short skirts.
“Would you like some coffee?” his father asked, casually covering any lingering embarrassment as Miss Parks took her seat.
“God, yes,” she blurted out. This time, Sam didn’t even bother hiding his smile. “I mean, yes, please, that would be delightful.”
“Hannah,” his mother called to the serving girl. “Please pour Miss Parks some coffee.”
Soon Miss Parks had coffee and an egg and bread and ham on the plate in front of her.
“Did you sleep well?” He immediately regretted the question. He didn’t need anyone finding out where she had fallen asleep.
“Yes, thank you.” She held her coffee cup as if it were a lifeline.
His father came to the conversational rescue.
“I understand you enjoyed our hospitality so much last night, you stayed.”
“I fell in the fish pond.”
His parents stared, both frozen in mid action. His
father’s bite of ham hung precariously on the immobile fork, his mother’s coffee cup tipped at a dangerous angle.
There had been a reason why Sam had left out that little piece of information, but apparently this woman had very little sense of decorum or self-preservation, which actually made her quite interesting.
“My goodness, however did that happen?” His mother’s voice was unnaturally high as she set down her cup and leaned toward their guest, eyes wide.
Miss Parks glanced around the table, and her grip tightened on her coffee cup until her knuckles whitened. Perhaps she realized she was revealing too much, hopefully she wouldn’t also reveal how he had encountered her the first time.
“I’m not really sure.” Her voice quavered slightly. “I was admiring the moon, and next thing I knew I was in the water. It’s possible I had a little more to drink than I should.”
“It was a hot night,” Sam said, wanting to help her out in some way, although the night hadn’t been unusually warm. “I’m sure you didn’t realize how much you were drinking.”
“That must be it,” she agreed and happily sipped her coffee.
“Parks,” his father muttered to himself. “I don’t recognize the name. Do we know your people?”
She froze, and fear danced through her eyes as she darted her glance once more back and forth across the table, but then she took a breath and her face relaxed.
“I don’t think so. We’re pretty new to the area.”
“We’ll have someone ride out to your house this morning, and as soon as you are ready, a carriage will bring you home,” his father said.
Once again, he noticed that she looked unsure. She took a sip of her coffee before answering. “Yeah, that’s really nice, but I’m okay.” She continued to hold the cup, he got the feeling she was trying to hide behind it. “If no one comes for me, I’ll walk home. That is, if you don’t mind if I stay around a little while.”
“Not at all,” he was quick to answer, though there was something about her response that didn’t ring true. He certainly wasn’t going to call her out as a liar in front of his parents.
With a rustle of skirts and an over-exaggerated sigh, Elizabeth entered the dining room. Her blonde hair was in perfect sausage curls, her dress a bit too frilly for breakfast.
“This is ridiculously early.”
“If we delayed breakfast any longer,” Mother said, “it would be dinner.”
Elizabeth tossed her curls and daintily sat down.
“Can I go to Frederick with you? There is absolutely no social life around here anymore. It’s dreadfully dull.” She looked up, big doe eyes ready to wrap Father around her little finger when she noticed the visitor, and her tone changed abruptly. “Who are you?”
Sam was appalled at his sister’s lack of decorum, but at the same time, found it interesting that Elizabeth did not know this woman who claimed to be Dinah’s friend.
“Friend of Dinah.” Miss Parks answered without batting an eye. She’d been prepared for this, he realized. “You’re Elizabeth, right? Dinah has told me so much about you. She says you are the best friend anyone could ever have, so sweet and caring.”
Who was this vixen who had landed in their house? He would bet any amount of money that she had no idea who Dinah was. How had she ended up in his bed last night?
Elizabeth, always easy prey to flattery, settled her napkin in her lap, while she smiled at the newcomer. “I don’t remember meeting you, but then there were so many people at the ball last night.”
“I didn’t feel great early on,” Miss Parks explained, “so I went to lie down. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and it was morning.”
“Is that my dress?”
Sam could almost see the wheels turning in Miss Parks’ head before she answered.
“I couldn’t exactly wear my ball gown to breakfast, Beck loaned me one of yours. I hope you don’t mind. It’s a lovely dress, though I’m sure it looks much nicer on you.” She took another sip of her coffee.
He glanced at his parents. They seemed as fascinated with this performance as he was. With a small shake of his head, his father turned his attention back to Sam. “Do you want to go over any accounts before I leave?”
“I want to ride the estate with you.” What he wanted was confirmation that he was doing things right. He shouldn’t need it. He was a grown man after all, in charge of running a large plantation. His father trusted him to do it. Why couldn’t he trust himself?
“I’d like that.”
“So, can I go to Frederick with you?” Elizabeth asked again, while signaling to the serving girl to pour her coffee.
His parents exchanged a glance across the table, and in that way that long-married people had, managed to have a whole conversation without saying a word.
“If Sam can manage here on his own.” His mother looked at him instead of his sister.
“I’ll manage.” Honestly, life would be easier without having to worry about Elizabeth.
“Fine.” His mother let out a small sigh. “You may come. Have Hannah pack for you.”
“Why not Beck?” Elizabeth demanded, pausing as she reached for her coffee.
“Hannah will go with us.”
“But Beck’s my girl!” Elizabeth’s protest sounded very much like whining to Sam’s ears.
The look his mother gave her was enough to squelch any more complaints. “If you are not here to see to the running of the house, then Sally needs Beck. Hannah can be spared.”
Elizabeth’s mouth puckered into a pout, but she didn’t protest any further. Instead she turned her attention back to Miss Parks.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Emily Parks.”
“We’ll get acquainted while Hannah packs my things.”
Miss Parks’ smile looked genuine and relaxed. “Sounds lovely.”
What was that woman’s game? He supposed it didn’t matter too much. She’d be gone by midday and his parents and Elizabeth would also be on their way. He could settle into running the estate and figuring out what to do about the war. He almost wished everyone wasn’t leaving. He’d prefer the distraction of a full house than all kinds of quiet to stew in his own thoughts. Despite all the things on his mind, he kept looking at and wondering about this Miss Parks. Perhaps it was his rather unorthodox introduction to her that made her loom so large in his mind. But partly it was that her story didn’t add up, he knew his father realized it, too. There was also something refreshing about her, something different, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what that was.
Breakfast ended, and Sam and his father bowed politely to the ladies and headed out to their horses. Sam placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted his stallion, Echo. He gave the sorrel beast a pat on the neck. He was a good horse, maybe later he’d take him for a good long run. They could both use it.
His father mounted his horse as nimbly as if he were twenty years younger. He took the reins from Moses and squinted into the sun, surveying his land.
“Any problems with the field hands?” his father asked, as they rode toward the fields.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Quite frankly, it was not surprising that enslaved workers weren’t always thrilled with their lot in life, nor were they as motivated as one might like.
“You’re keeping them in line?” His father glanced at him, waiting for an answer.
“I’m letting Wilkins deal with it.” He had never felt comfortable disciplining the field hands. Daniel Wilkins had been the overseer for almost ten years now. He knew his job, and Sam let him do it.
“You may have to take a more direct hand in the matter.” His father clucked to his horse who had decided that some clover by the path would make a tasty treat.
“Why is that?” Sam ducked his head as Echo walked under a blossom-laden tree.
“Things are changing, Samuel. I don’t have to tell you that.”
“I know.” His response was perhaps a bit testier than strictly neces
sary. “But Wilkins knows what he’s doing. You always trusted him.”
“It’s not a matter of trust,” his father said and then, running his hand through his hair, changed his answer. “Maybe it is. Wilkins is good at his job, it’s true, but I don’t trust him, not like I trust you. I left you to run this farm. You have to manage Wilkins like you manage everyone else.”
“I don’t see why I can’t let people who know what they are doing simply do their jobs.” Frankly he found the minutia of running the farm tedious.
“Because they will take advantage of you,” his father answered. “Wilkins especially. He’ll keep the slaves in line, but incapacitate some of them so you lose the man hours. That’s not a good pay off. You need to keep him in line. Punishing is fine, as long as the bucks can still work.”
Sam rather wished he were like Elizabeth and could cajole people into doing his will. Then he would convince his father to leave the politics in Frederick to others and come back here and manage the farm. Sam could then devote himself to poetry.
They rode the path between the fields of sprouting tobacco.
“Looks like a good crop.” His father nodded approvingly toward the fledgling plants.
Sam gripped his reins tighter. How would his father feel about the changes he had made? “I put in several acres of potatoes.”
“Why?”
Sam relaxed as he realized his father wasn’t angry, merely curious.
“I know my history, Father. If this disagreement between the north and south isn’t resolved quickly—”
“And it most likely won’t be.” His father was always the realist.
“Right. If that’s the case than we could be in for a protracted war. In which case there are likely to be shortages. Tobacco’s a cash crop, but you can’t eat it.” He knew his history, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine any life but the idyllic farm life he saw before him.
“Sound thinking,” his father said. The morning sun had turned warm, it was going to be a hot day. “And what about this young woman who stayed too long at the ball. What do you know about her?”
“Not a thing,” he answered honestly. “I don’t remember seeing her at the dance.”
Emily's Song Page 4
