A Bride Most Begrudging (12 page)

chapter
S
IX
   

“ARE YOU MY GAMMA NOW?” Sally asked.

Constance continued to slice her carrots. Ah, how to explain this?

“No, dear. I’m … well … your sister, I suppose.”

Sally’s violet eyes widened. “I used to have sister. She got real sick. She went to heaven.”

Constance paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Mama and Papa live there too.”

“I see.” Constance laid down her knife. “What was your sister’s name?”

“Sister.”

Constance blinked. “Oh. I have a sister too.”

“She live in heaven?”

“No, she lives in a place called England. It’s not quite as wonderful as heaven, but almost.”

“She call you ‘Sister’ or ‘My Lady?’ ” Constance bit her lip. “She calls me ‘C.C.’ ”

“Sissy?” Sally’s eyes lit up. “I call you Sissy too?”

Placing her hand on top of Sally’s, she gave it a gentle squeeze. “That would be lovely.”

An enchanting smile spread across the child’s face. With it came two charming dimples.

Constance picked up the knife and glanced at Mary, who bustled around the fire. Due to the council’s visit, they were late in preparing the midday meal and Mary had not stopped moving since Drew and Josh left to retrieve the indentured men.

“Knives are very dang’russ.”

“Yes,” Constance agreed. “Don’t ever touch one.”

“Or I might hurt me? Like you did?”

Constance nodded, glancing at two of her fingers, now wrapped with strips of cotton. It wasn’t that cutting vegetables was so difficult; it was just that the gold band on her fourth finger kept drawing her attention away from the knife. The ring’s presence not only startled her every time she noticed it, but it also reminded her of the man who had placed it there.

The knife slipped yet again, barely missing her finger.

Sally gasped. “You better let Miss Mary cut the yun-yuns.”

“You mean
onions
.”

“Yes. Yun-yuns.”

Constance swiped a sleeve across her face, trying to shove back the curls blocking her view, and concentrated on her task. “Well, I’ll strive to be more careful. Otherwise I might run out of chemise.”

Sally eyed the old chemise crumpled upon the bed. “I think you’ll run out of fingers.”

Mary scurried over to collect the carrots, waiting while Constance scooped up her slices and dropped them into the iron pot. “I’ll set these over the fire, then show you how to cut them ‘yun-yuns.’ ” She turned and winked at Sally. “After the noon meal, we’ll boil that chemise, we will. I have a feeling she’ll be needing it again, and the smell of it hurts my nose.”

Sally giggled as Mary struggled with the pot of carrots in one hand while pinching her nose with the other.

By the time Drew and Josh arrived with the new men, Mary had prepared a hearty vegetable soup with enough corn pone for all. The men servants were weak, filthy, and hungry. They partook of their meal in the clearing, then deposited the empty trenchers they shared in the pails by the door.

Constance watched as, by degrees, they filed in front of the cottage and faced Drew, awaiting his instructions. Josh stood at Drew’s left, while she and Sally were instructed to stand behind him and to his right. Mary picked up the pails of dirty dishes and headed to the creek.

Fetid shirts and britches hung on the men like rags on a cord. None wore shoes. Their newly shorn hair stuck in odd angles from their heads, while their grim faces displayed pallid complexions beneath a night’s growth of whiskers.

She recognized none of them. Her thoughts had been of Uncle Skelly on the trip over and she had taken little notice of the other men during her brief jaunts to the upper deck.

“Eight of you are to serve a seven-year term,” Drew started, “two a fourteen-year term as per your contracts. For the most part, we will be harvesting tobacco. I also have plans to build a three-level house come November.

“I will clothe and feed you well and, for now, you will sleep in the tobacco barn. When the big house is built, you may have this cottage as your living quarters.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, his shadow stretching beside him in the still morning light. “At the end of your terms, each of you will receive an acre of land along with corn and new clothing. I will show you your land tomorrow. If you wish to work it on your free day, you may do so. Good behavior and hard work will be the price of seeds and tools for your land.”

Constance looked from one indentured man to another, noting their guarded expressions. And no wonder. Drew’s manner was in sharp contrast to that of the ship captain’s. They had received nothing but barking orders and immediate retribution on the ship. To now have the lure of owning land dangled before them must be a bit suspect. She tilted her head, guessing it would take a while for them to accept their master’s word as truth.

“Whatever price your crop brings will be yours to keep. I will hold your monies in an account with your name. If you want to save it, you may have the whole of it come the end of your term. If you want to use it to purchase supplies or sundries, you may give me the list and I will purchase them for you.”

He took to pacing in front of the men. “You will not be working in the fields alone. I will be there working beside you. Any man who works harder than I will be given a bonus at the end of the season.”

He stopped. The trees whispered. The hens clucked. The men kept their focus fastened on him. “I have plans for a great plantation. You are coming in at the best possible time. If you perform your tasks well and efficiently, you will act as leaders for the next group of men I purchase. Are there any questions?”

The men were silent.

He strode back to his brother. “You have already met my brother, Master Joshua, on the
Randolph
. He is my factor and will be leaving for England with the ship.”

Moving to stand behind Constance and Sally, he placed one hand on Sally’s shoulder and rested his other on Constance’s waist. “This is your mistress, along with my sister, Miss Sally. Members of my family and household are to be treated with the utmost respect.”

Mistress. He may have agreed to an in-name-only marriage, but no one else would suspect it as such. For he had not hesitated in the introduction of her as his wife and even placed a possessive hand to her back. She kept her expression neutral.

He took several steps forward and spread his feet. “If it is escape you have in mind, let me assure you, I will track you down. The punishment for attempted escape in Virginia is thirty-nine lashes of the whip. Have no doubt that I will catch you and administer them. Personally.”

The men said nothing.

He relaxed his stance. “This morning you will worm and weed the fields. This afternoon, you will help as needed around the clearing with any light work Mistress O’Connor or my servant, Miss Mary, asks of you, but you will stop before the sun sets. You are all in need of rest and good food. I will see you have it before I expect you to put in a full day’s work. Any questions?”

There were none.

“Fabric with which to clothe you should be arriving in port in about two weeks. Until then, I fear you must make do with what you have.” He adjusted his hat. “Let us away to the creek where you can wash, then we will head to the fields.”

————

As promised, Drew worked the men throughout the rest of the morning, then had them do light chores around the cottage. Though they were hesitant to speak freely, he hoped a sense of camaraderie would soon form. After a sumptuous supper, they could barely move, so, disregarding the sun still perched in the sky, Drew allowed them to retire.

Lighting his pipe, he then helped Constance carry the dishes to the creek for their washing, early evening shadows trailing behind them as they walked. He carried the heavy pots filled with noggins, while she held a pile of trenchers.

“What’s that?” she asked, indicating a flowering tree covered with creamy globular blooms in a setting of huge glossy leaves.

“A magnolia.”

“Lovely. And there are so many of them.” She inhaled deeply. “Umm.” Setting down her load, she moved to the tree, breaking off a flower and pressing it to her nose.

The rich fragrant perfume of the magnolia drifted to him. He took a deep breath, then surveyed his land, trying to see it through her eyes. Thinking back to the two years he’d spent at Cambridge University, he recalled what few trees they’d had abroad. Here, there was enough wood to supply all of England and more.

“How did the men do?” she asked.

He hesitated a moment. “In the fields?”

“Yes.”

“Surprisingly well. They seem to have reconciled themselves to their stay here and give every indication of turning into fine workers. I don’t think any of them will run.”

“No?”

He smiled. “Well, they thought about it when I told them we would wash every day. Still, I don’t think any will try to escape. Josh has a great knack for discerning a person’s character. It appears his instinct didn’t fail him. The men he advised me to purchase were exactly what I needed.”

“That’s why he was on the transport ship?”

He studied her for a moment. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “He took pains to smuggle as much food and drink to Mary as he could.”

“Um. He did the same for our men. It has made their adjustment to me and the farm much easier.”

She fingered one of the creamy petals cupped in her palm. “Did he smuggle food only to those particular men?”

He frowned. What prompted that question? “There was one other man he had chosen, but who died on the passage over.”

She slowly lifted her gaze. “Who?” He shrugged. “I know not. Why?”

Taking a deep breath, she laid the flower on top of her stack of dishes, then picked them up. “My uncle was on that ship.”

“Ah, yes.
The uncle
.”

She stiffened at his sarcasm, and he felt a pang of regret. Regardless of whether she had told a falsehood, he should’ve kept to his own counsel until he knew for certain.

Removing the pipe from his mouth, he readjusted the hat on his head. “I’m sorry.”

She bit her lip. “So am I,” she whispered. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached the creek, he set the pots on the bank as a feeling of contentment flowed through him. The closing of the day was upon them, and despite the disastrous morning with the council, things were going well. It appeared his plans for a plantation would still bear fruit.

Propping himself against a birch tree, he placed the pipe in his mouth, inhaled deeply, and blew a series of smoke rings above his head. His practiced eye scanned the water’s edge looking for the animals that met there to feed and hunt. The busy crossroads joining the creek and forest lay unusually still, as if sensing a human presence. Picking up a rock, he skipped it across the water. The ripples disrupted the glistening surface of the creek as the sun began its final descent in the west.

He turned to watch Constance clean the trenchers. She sat perched on the bank, her eyes rounded and focused on him.

“What?” he asked.

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

“With what?”

“These dishes.”

He snorted. “Have you taken leave of your senses? I’ve already carried the pots down here for you.”

“You mean I’m ordinarily expected to carry them myself?”

“Of course. My sister Nellie did it all the time. I only got in the habit of it when Grandma took over.”

“So you carried the pots for your grandmother, then sat against that tree and watched her cleanse them?”

He frowned. “This is one of my favorite times of day and your screeching is chafing my ears. Please cease.”

Her lips parted. His gaze was inexplicably drawn to them. Their sweet taste, along with the incredible softness of her appalling hair, reared itself in front of him. Clamping down on his pipe, he inhaled too quickly and began coughing.

She dropped the trencher in her hands, rushed over and whacked him on the back. He jumped up and scrambled to the creek, but the trencher was already floating away. Seeing no other alternative, he splashed in after it, still coughing.

He made it back to the bank, wet, still gasping for air and, with eyes watering, fell to his knees.

“Smoking is really a nasty habit,” she said, pounding him on the back several more times.

“You dropped the trencher,” he wheezed.

“Yes. And I truly appreciate your heroic effort in fetching it. Thank you.”

He took a deep breath. She reached out to whack him. He grabbed her wrist and held it loosely within his grasp.

“Do not hit me again.”

She blinked. “I wasn’t hitting you. I was assisting you in your breathing.”

“Constance, I have no food caught in my throat. What are you trying to knock out? The smoke?”

She bit her lower lip. “Oh. Your pardon.”

He released her wrist. “You dropped the trencher.”

“You said that already, and I thanked you quite prettily for retrieving it.”