A Bride Most Begrudging (20 page)

“Where are you going?”

“To get your cap and berries.”

“All is well, then?”

From the shelf, he took a small charger filled with gunpowder that was secured to a circle of rope. Slipping it over his head, he opened the door. “I’ll soon find out. Bar the door and window and stay inside until I return.”

All hints of amusement fell from her face. Swiftly, she moved Sally from her lap and barred the door while Mary barred the window.

chapter
E
LEVEN
   

THE NOON SUN WINKED off the sea of tobacco, reminding Drew of his boyhood. Back then, he’d shared this task with his father while the tobacco plants towered above his and Josh’s heads. Now, he stood surrounded by servants and the tobacco barely reached his shoulder.

A gentle breeze ruffled the crop set not in straight neat rows, but planted in what appeared a haphazard fashion, each plant in its own little mound of dirt a few paces apart from the others. The sturdy green plants had been snapped off at the top, allowing the strength of the plant to flow into its long broad leaves.

There was never enough time to weed the entire field, but Drew had gotten a pretty good jump on weeding the little area around each mound, having his men help him finish up last week.

Now, they were searching the massive plants for great horned worms about the size of Drew’s little finger. Many a time had he walked these fields pulling grass-green worms off the leaves, snapping them in half, then dropping them onto the ground.

The task required a sharp eye but not a great deal of thought. And therein was the trouble, for his mind kept wandering, recalling Constance as she looked yesterday with her fear masked as indignation. With her arms about his baby sister. With her hair rippling over her shoulders. By Pharaoh, if the color of it wasn’t starting to look downright…pleasing.

Still, when she actually ran her fingers through that thick, curly mane of hers, he’d been in complete control. Not a single carnal thought had crossed his mind. He nodded. Yes. That was what was important.

Now he needed to focus on suppressing the panic he’d experienced, for he’d been filled with an inordinate amount of it when Sally had half run, half stumbled into the fields out of breath, wide-eyed and crying that Constance was “scare-ed.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was clear something would happen to Constance. It was only a matter of time.
Bolster my defenses, Lord, so when the worst occurs, I won’t be affected
.

He sighed. Affected very much, that is. For the truth of it was, he would indeed be affected. Perhaps it was because he felt it his responsibility to keep her safe for her father. So maybe panic wasn’t bad.

Yes. That was it. Panic was acceptable, for her father’s sake. Desire was not. And if yesterday was any indication, he’d just about gotten the desire under control.

He’d found no trace of the Indians when he’d gone to find her basket nor had they been to visit—yet. They would, though. And when they did, Lord willing, it would be of a peaceful nature.

“You missed one, Isaac.” Drew picked the worm off the tobacco leaf, snapped it in two, and tossed it aside. “The next one you miss, you eat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Drew smiled as Isaac searched the next plant more carefully. He would eat one before the day was through, just as Drew had eaten more than he could count when his father followed behind him during the worming of the fields.

None of those occasions was pleasant, but swallowing that first one was always the worst. Still, one worm could wipe out a whole section of tobacco within a day. The men must be made to understand the importance of killing every last worm.

The sun beat relentlessly upon them, the moisture in the air encasing them. Drew thrived on it. This was his legacy, and he could always find solace here, where he’d spent the largest amounts of time with those he now missed.

He wiped his brow. To his way of thinking, nothing could compare to laboring over his crop, tending to it with meticulous attention and vigilance while sweat sluiced down his body and the sun burnt into his skin. He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding with pleasure over all that was his. “Isaac?”

Isaac stilled, then turned back to the plant he’d just deemed worm free. Drew lifted a leaf, revealing a green worm about two inches in length clinging to the underside. “You missed one.”

Isaac swallowed. “I’ll be more careful, sir. Much more careful. Won’t happen again.”

Drew raised an eyebrow.

Isaac straightened. “Sir, I …” He looked at the worm and then back at Drew.

“In the past, I most often swallowed them whole. They’re a bit on the crunchy side if you chew them.”

Isaac wiped his hand across his mouth. The other men stopped to watch. “You, sir?”

Drew nodded. “My father used to follow me when I wormed the fields.”

“They didn’t hurt you none?”

“No, it’s just a little worm.”

Normally, you were a youngster when you ate your first worm. Being the eldest, Drew had had the pleasure of watching Josh eat his first worm. But never had he seen a grown man have to eat one.

Wiping his hand against his leg, Isaac peeled the worm from beneath the broad leaf. His Adam’s apple bobbed several times, then he looked again at Drew. “Swallow it whole, you say?”

He shrugged. “I did. Of course, the risk is it might get stuck in your throat. Whichever way you prefer, it makes no difference to me.”

“Would you be willing to let me have another chance, sir?”

“That worm could’ve wiped out a good portion of the field by this time tomorrow. There are no second chances when it comes to worms.”

Isaac looked to the others. A couple appeared sympathetic, most displayed fascination. He again looked at the worm lying rather dormant between his fingers.

Drew lifted his hat and repositioned it on his head. He saw no reason to treat a grown man more delicately than he would a little tyke. One’s first worm should be a memorable occasion. “I might ought to mention, the first worm I ate didn’t stay long in my stomach. Of course, I was but a lad, barely out of wet pants. You, I’m sure, will have no such trouble.”

What color there had been in Isaac’s face left him. Drew chuckled. “Come, it’s just a little worm. Eat it and be done so we can continue our work.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Isaac took a fortifying breath, popped the worm into his mouth, chewed two, maybe three times, and swallowed. A cheer rose up from the men. Drew whacked him on the shoulder. “Well done, man!”

Isaac turned as green as the tobacco.

Drew’s smile widened. “Sweet saints, Isaac, don’t cast up your accounts in the field. Run yonder if you must.”

A great many chuckles followed Isaac as he clapped his hand over his mouth and sprinted to the edge of the field, heaving the moment he reached its edge. Upon his return there was much back slapping and congratulations all the way around.

The worming proceeded, but an air of festivity had taken over, and poor Isaac was the brunt of much ribbing for the rest of the afternoon. Drew smiled, thinking farming was indeed a wonderful occupation.

————

The sky rumbled and the air smelled of rain. Mary noted, however, that the men hardly seemed aware of it, so much fun were they having at Isaac’s expense. As she served them their evening meal, she peeked over at Isaac, having by now heard in great detail of his initiation into farming. The men had been ruthless in the telling, each having his own slant.

She knew the poor man had never farmed in his life. Indeed, he had been the night watchman back home, shouting, “Past four o’clock of a fine spring morning. Past four o’clock, and all’s well,” as he made his way through London aside lifeless shuttered houses.

She’d felt a kinship to him, though, for one of the few signs of life displayed at such a time would be on Bread Street, where she and the other bakers of London worked. Their ovens glowing, they would withdraw piping hot loaves, the aroma filling their little bakeries and escaping out into the street. Isaac’s cry would always be a bit more buoyant as he neared the end of Bread Street, knowing his duty for the night was almost over.

She’d heard his cry every morning for years, yet they had never met, nor even seen each other.

As fate would have it, though, it was Bread Street that caused Isaac’s fall. One of the bakers down a ways from Mary’s shop had started to make a habit of slipping a pinch of fresh bread to Isaac as he passed by. On one such morning, the store’s owner caught them and had them both arrested. Isaac’s sentence was deportment; the other man lost his life.

Such were not the ways here, not with Master Drew. Here, she was able to make an extra bit of bread for Isaac, glad to see he never went wanting again. It was a small thing, really, but it made them both feel they’d somehow cheated the hangman.

“Miss Mary, what’s this green stuff in our carrot pudding?”

Chuckles reverberated along with the thunder. Isaac’s spoon paused on its way to his mouth, his face still looking a bit sickly.

The infectious mood tugged at her. “I’m not right sure, Thomas. Master Drew brought them to me this noon, he did. Said they would make better farmers of any man who ate them and would I please mix them into the evening meal.”

Isaac made a show of digging through his pudding before taking a big mouthful. “It’s the best carrot pudding I’ve ever ’ad in me whole life, Miss Mary. Course, it’s the only carrot pudding I’ve ’ad in me whole life.”

More chuckles. “Ho, that’d be the truth of it,” Thomas teased. “He’d been spendin’ all ’is time eatin’ bread, he ’ad!”

Mary shook her head at their nonsense, while the men murmured in agreement.

Constance came out to the yard to check on things, immediately sensing a mood shift, caused by her presence, no doubt. Still, she could do nothing about it. Such was the way of master and servant. She’d never much thought about it before, but never before had she longed to be included. It wasn’t to be, though. There were strict rules governing the relationship between master and servant. There always had been and there always would be.

The rain held off throughout the rest of the meal and into the evening’s chores. She and Drew didn’t linger over their time at the creek, though. The air was heavy and mosquitoes swarmed about. Constance spent almost as much time swatting them off of her as she did cleaning the dishes.

After that first night of Drew’s forfeit, never again did she recline against the birch tree. She sat side-by-side with him as his helpmate, and to her surprise, when the week was up, he did not revert back to his old ways. Only after he had helped finish the dishes would he pick up his pipe and relax. It wasn’t too long before she looked forward to the quiet walks with him where they shared this task, as well as time alone together.

Ever since her Indian encounter, he had carried his musket with him, and tonight was no exception. She smiled, remembering his blatant efforts last night to calm her lingering unease. He’d managed quite nicely by throwing her an unexpected mathematical challenge.

“Twenty-eight,” he had said.

Muddy sand filtered through her fingers as she paused in her scrubbing. “Pardon?”

“Twenty-eight eggs. Seven hens would lay twenty-eight eggs in six days—at the rate you suggested, anyway.”

She sat back on her heels. “Yes. You are quite right.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I know.”

Suppressing a smile, she returned her attention to her chore.

“I’ve one for you now,” he said.

She glanced at him. “Oh?”

Running his hand across his trencher, he laid it down and picked up another. “Sally and Sissy, four feet apart, walk side-by-side around a circular pond. How far does each walk if the sum of their distances is one mile?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Have you a solution already?”

He shook his head. “No. It occurred to me the other day when Sally regaled me with tales of daisy-chain crowns and meals by the pond, but I haven’t given it much thought since.”

She reached for a noggin. “I’ll need to work in some soot. That’s an algebraic problem.”

“Humph. You need to work in the soot for all your problems.”

She smiled. “We’ll compare solutions tomorrow.”

He winked. “Prepared I will be.”

Droplets of rain found their way through the tree’s covering, and the wind picked up speed, putting her recollections to a close. There would be no comparing of solutions this eve, not when the skies might open up at any moment. She sighed. She’d come up with an answer to his puzzle and had looked rather forward to lingering here with him.

A huge clap of thunder shook the very ground beneath them. Gathering up the dishes, the two hurried down the path toward the sanctuary of home.

————

Constance awakened at Drew’s prodding. The cottage was still shrouded in darkness. “What is it? Has something happened?” she whispered.

“No. It’s simply time for you to learn to milk the goat. I’m tired of doing it for you every morning. Come.”