For Love or Loyalty: The MacGregor Legacy | Book 1 (16 page)

But would it? The nagging thought kept digging at his mind, like termites on a piece of wood. He rubbed the back of his neck as he guided her through the hall and out the front door. She hobbled down the steps with a limp.

“Mither, what happened to yer leg?” Malcolm asked.

“I fell,” she said. “An’ do not try to distract me. I may be feeble in body, but not in mind an’ spirit. Somethin’ does not feel right about leavin’ Lauren here.” She lifted a skeptical gaze, pinning him with one of those stares that had always managed to wrestle confessions from him. “She is not just stayin’ behind to handle the details, is she?”

“In a manner of speaking, aye, she is.” He dropped his gaze, unable to meet his mother’s eyes. It was encouraging to hear some of the fight back in her voice. No doubt, her grit and determination helped her survive the horrible ordeal of these past few months. Still, he dared not tarry. He needed to find them a decent, affordable place to stay before the evening. Once he had his mother settled, he would try and figure out what to do about Lauren.

“Lad, I can smell when something ’tisn’t right.” She crossed her thin arms and set her stubborn chin at an angle. He had seen this reaction many times throughout his childhood, but the weary wrinkles and circles under her eyes tugged at his heart.

Without a word, Malcolm swept her up and set her upon Logan’s horse. She gasped in shocked surprise. Back in Scotland, Malcolm never would have considered such an action. His mother had always been strong and independent. She would have boxed his ears for not waiting for permission, but things had changed. She was too weak to mount up on her own and possibly still too stubborn to admit it.

“Mither, I will tell ye everything by an’ by.” Malcolm mounted the horse behind her. “But not ’til we leave this place.”

Dazed, Lauren stood staring at the door where Malcolm had disappeared with his mother. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he mouthed the words,
I love you
. Placing her palm to her aching forehead, Lauren wondered if her hurting heart could be playing jokes on her vivid imagination.

“So you are mine to do with as I please.” Mr. Fairbanks stood in front of her, blocking her view of the empty door. She couldn’t keep staring at it as if Malcolm would walk through it again. Sighing, Lauren lifted her gaze to the man who now controlled her life.

“Actually, my indenture belongs to Mr. Robert Mallard, at least that was the name on the contract.” Lauren met his gaze with a challenge in spite of her watery eyes. She cleared her throat, straightened her posture, and lifted her chin. “I am ready to hear my list of duties.”

His face turned a shade of red as a vein pulsed in his right temple and looked about to pop. He strode toward her, his breath coming out in quick puffs. Raising his hand back, Mr. Fairbanks struck her across the face. The slap reverberated through the room as Lauren’s head snapped back. Her skin stung while her mind reeled in shock.

“Get one thing straight, girl. I do not take any sass. Mr. Mallard may be the master and owner, but he has given me full power to oversee his property and to make sure his servants and slaves stay in line.” His voice rose and strained with his angry temper, shaking his body with each fierce word. “All you got to do is give me no lip, and do what I tell you to do. Is that clear?” The words rang through her ear where he hovered over her.

Lauren nodded.

“What was that?” He lifted a hand to cup his ear and turned his head at an angle, while keeping an eye on her.

Lauren cleared her throat, trying not to wince. She willed her body to remain still and strong in front of him. “Aye, that is clear.”

“Good. Glad we have an understanding. I do flog indentured servants for rebellion and insolence. Do not be thinking that you are any different from the slaves here just because you shall be getting your freedom back at the end of four years. Compared to that other woman, I came out with the upper hand. I shall get more work out of you in four years than I could have dreamed from her in seven years. She would not have lasted anyway, but you will.”

He took a calming breath and rubbed his chin as he walked behind the desk and sat down. “This study also belongs to Mr. Mallard, but he gives me use of it from time to time. He prefers for me to do all my record keeping right here,” he tapped the top of the cluttered desk with the tip of his finger, “so he can see and approve all that I do. Do not be thinking you can go running to him for help if you get in trouble with me. It shall only earn you a flogging.”

Lauren’s mind raced as he talked. She had seen cruel men like him before, but she had never been under the ruling thumb of one of them until now. It would take her time to observe him and figure out how to placate him and avoid being beaten. Fear coiled through her, wrapping around her heart like an iron fist.
Lord, what have I done by putting myself here in this man’s hands? Please be with me. And above all, give me wisdom.
She prayed the silent prayer as he continued to talk.

“I shall put you in the fields for now. We need as much help as possible planting the tobacco, but once that is done, you might serve here in the main house. ’Tis obvious you read and write by the way you read your contract and signed your name. How did you come by your education?”

“My da had us educated by a governess.” Lauren clamped her teeth to keep her expression from showing her thoughts. She didn’t want him knowing how much she hoped to move from the fields to the main house where her labor would be easier. She suspected few educated servants came to them. Perhaps it could be her saving grace from the backbreaking labor that would steal her youth.

“Can you do sums as well?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Aye, and I am fluent in French and Gaelic,” she said.

“We have no need for other languages. Everyone who comes had better learn English and quickly, or they will earn the whip. Some of the field servants do not count as well as I need. I may have you help with the harvest count.”

Lauren’s stomach sank. That wouldn’t be until fall. First, she would have to make it through the whole summer laboring under the sun in extreme heat. Her shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“In the meantime, you shall do whatever else I need.” He set her contract on the side of the desk and strode to the door. “I shall take you to the field where you will begin. The sooner we get you trained, the better.”

“What about my room?” Lauren asked, following him out the door and down the hallway to the back of the house. They passed a black slave woman who carried a basket of clothes and kept her head down.

Mr. Fairbanks burst into laughter. His shoulders rocked in mirth as he turned the corner and led her through a spinning room where two other servants were at the wheels. They kept their attention on their tasks, and no one looked up to greet them or smile in acknowledgment. He didn’t bother to introduce her to them. She wondered if the servants were even allowed to talk to each other.

They came to a side door. Mr. Fairbanks set his hand on the knob and glanced down at Lauren. His mirth faded as his expression turned sour. “You still do not get it, do you? Girl, you are a field servant. You do not get a room. Only house slaves and servants get rooms, and they share. The field servants and slaves sleep in huts near the fields. I may later use your reading and writing, but you’re going to pay your dues in the field first. ’Tis the fastest way to break you in. Gets you used to hard work and humility.”

Lauren followed him out of doors. The bright sun hurt her eyes as she tried to adjust. She blinked back tears, unwilling to cry in front of Mr. Fairbanks, but she longed to weep. Even if Malcolm raised enough funds to buy her indenture, would he not first be obligated to buy his sister? Her only hope lay in getting word to her father. Why didn’t she take the time to write him before she sold herself to these cruel people? Now how would she get paper and ink? Money for postage? She had to find a way. The thought of spending the next four years in this place made bile rise in the back of her throat, and she feared she would be sick.

Chapter 10

10

M
alcolm sighed as he guided his mother to the bed in her new boardinghouse room. On the way he confessed everything. She wasn’t pleased to learn of his initial plans for using Lauren to get his revenge but understood the remorse he now felt.

“Mither, I am sorry I canna afford more than a simple room, but after a few days’ wages, I shall try to find us a house to rent.” Malcolm sank on the straw mattress beside her and draped an arm over her frail shoulders.

“Believe me, lad, this is much better than what I have been used to.” Iona leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I am grateful ye came for me but sorry Lauren took my place.”

“Aye, I must find a way to help her.” He slammed a curled fist into the palm of his other hand.

“Let us get some sleep. Tomorrow we can think with clearer heads.” His mother yawned and covered her mouth as she closed her eyes. “The Lord will not forsake her anymore than He did me.”

Guilt slashed through him. He had no right to unburden his worries upon her. She had been through more than he could imagine. It was his responsibility to see she got all the rest she needed and time to replenish her strength and health. Malcolm leaned over and kissed the top of her wrinkled forehead. “First, ye must bathe. I ordered a bath, an’ the woman of the house has offered to give ye one of her auld nightgowns.”

“Praise be to God!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Do ye know how long ’tis been since I had a nice, warm bath?” She glanced down at the smudged dirt on her aging hands and arms and lifted the coarse linen fabric of her soiled gray gown. “To feel somethin’ besides this against my skin would be a blessin’, indeed.”

“Aye, tomorrow when I come home from work, I shall bring ye a new set of clothes,” Malcolm said, glad to at least provide her that.

“What a blessed mither I am!” Suddenly revived with new energy, she threw her arms around him, Malcolm smiled as he embraced her. She no longer smelled of the rose water scent as she always had in the past, but he hoped her faith combined with Lauren’s would be rewarded and his mother would soon be back to herself again.

A knock sounded at the door. Malcolm pulled away to answer it. Two men carried in a tub as Malcolm stepped out of their way. A woman followed with a set of towels and a white nightgown. She looked from Malcolm to his mother sitting on the side of the bed and strode to her, bending to her knees.

“My mother asked me to bring you this.” She set the folded towels on the bed and held the gown up for inspection. “She said you could have it.”

“I could not accept it, but that is verra thoughtful of her.” His mother fingered the sleeve with a thoughtful expression. “Please tell her I am grateful.”

“I will, but she insists that you keep this.” The young girl laid it upon his mother’s lap with a gentle smile. “There is a bar of soap between the towels. Now be sure to let us know if you need aught else.”

As she left, four other men came in carrying steaming buckets of hot water. They took turns pouring the contents into the tub. A haze of steam hovered in the air and spread around the room like a mysterious mist.

“It should cool off in a few minutes—enough for her to get in.” The elderly man said, wiping his brow. By the look of the younger men, Malcolm assumed they were most likely his sons.

“Thank ye,” Malcolm said. The men filed out. Malcolm turned to his mother. “I have a few things I need to go over with Logan. I shall be back in a couple of hours. Then I will make a pallet on the floor.” He closed the door behind him. His mother sighed with contentment on the other side. He smiled, knowing she needed some time alone. Regardless of what the Campbells had done against his family, he would never forget the compassion and generous sacrifice Lauren made this day. He vowed to help her.

Malcolm headed to Logan’s room and knocked on the door. To his relief, his friend answered rather than his sister. “I need to talk to ye.” He glanced over Logan’s shoulder but didn’t see Deidra. “Alone.” He lowered his voice. Right now, he didn’t have the energy to deal with the anger he knew Deidra would have once she discovered that Lauren had stayed behind in his mother’s place.

“All right. Let me tell Deidra.” He stepped away for a moment. Lowered voices murmured inside the room, and then he came back and closed the door behind him. “I could use a drink at the tavern. Today was a long day. I shall probably reek of pine for weeks.”

“Is it that bad?” Malcolm asked as they walked down the hall.

“I am sure I will get used to it in a few days.” Logan grinned as they stepped into a tavern and settled at an empty table. “The work is hard, but it will make a man strong.”

“Did ye tell them about me?” Malcolm asked.

“Aye.” He nodded. “Ye can start in the morn. Be there by six. Yer wages will be the same as mine, two shillings a day. We have Sundays off.” Logan waved a servant over to take their order.

“I appreciate everything,” Malcolm said, rubbing his hands over his face as he mentally added up how long he would have to work before he could earn enough to buy back Lauren’s indenture. It would be a decent living to provide for himself and his mother, but it didn’t leave much else left over for savings. His gut clenched at the thought of not seeing Lauren. Were they treating her well? Was she miserable? Did she hate him?

“What would you two be wantin’?” a woman asked in a squeaky voice. She leaned over the table and gave Logan a taunting grin. Ample cleavage showed from her low-cut gown.

“I shall have a mug of ale, and bring one for my friend as well,” Logan said.

“I want naught.” Malcolm shook his head and rubbed the back of his aching neck. “I need to keep my wits. I have a lot o’ thinkin’ to do.”

“Nonsense, mon.” Logan waved the servant away. “Whatever it is, ye canna let it get ye down. We can put our heads together an’ come up with somethin’. Now confess, my friend, what is it?”

Malcolm told Logan everything, how Lauren willingly sacrificed herself for his mother. Once he had seen her poor condition, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her there one more night.

“At this rate, Lauren will work off her indenture faster than I could pay it.” Malcolm pinched his eyebrows.

“I have an idea how ye could make some quick cash, but ye might not like it,” Logan said.

“What is it?” As Malcolm straightened and faced his friend, hope rose in him for the first time since leaving Lauren behind. He gave Logan a skeptical look. “Is it legal?”

“I do not know all the laws here.” Logan laughed. “Although I suspect some would disapprove, including that sweet mither of yers.” He shrugged. “Ye’ll just have to decide if Lauren Campbell is worth it.”

The sun was much hotter than Lauren imagined. She feared her skin was blistered the way it burned and pulled tight across her face. Her back ached from bending over and digging small holes in the plowed rows where they planted the tobacco. No wonder so many poor women who worked out in the fields with their farming husbands developed a round posture in their backs.

Lauren glanced up and wiped her brow. The rows seemed to go on forever. They were only halfway through this one. She couldn’t tell how many hours it had been since Mr. Fairbanks left her, but the sun began to set in the west, dropping inch by inch. A bell rang in the distance, and the women around her sighed. They gathered their tools and walked toward the wagons at the end of the rows. Lauren followed their example.

As soon as she stood, her back cracked. She lifted her arms and tried to stretch her muscles, then rolled her aching neck from one shoulder to the other.

“You will need to make a straw hat like mine to give your face and neck some shade.” A girl stepped beside Lauren as they filed out of the row and followed the others to the north side of the fields. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. Slight freckles dotted her nose. “My name is Alice Burton. I came last spring an’ had to learn things the hard way. After one whipping, I decided to do whatever it takes to get to the end of my indenture. Anyway, the hat will help you keep from getting these.” She pointed to her freckles, which gave her more of an endearing look than anything revolting.

“I am Lauren Campbell, and I do not know how to make a hat like yers.” Lauren wondered what the poor lass had done to deserve a beating. She looked around for a sign of Mr. Fairbanks. No one had talked much all day, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was all right to talk now. A few were engaged in whispered conversations.

“I shall show you tonight. Where will you be bunking?”

Lauren gave her a blank stare.

“What hut did they give you?”

“I have no idea.” Lauren lifted her shoulders. “No one has told me much of anything. All I know is I took Iona MacGregor’s place.”

“Oh, no.” Alice’s eyes widened as she reached out and touched Lauren’s arm. “Did somethin’ ’appen to her? I wondered about her when they called her out of the fields an’ she did not return.”

“Nay. Her son came for her.” Lauren shielded her eyes as a man on a horse rode toward them.

“All the way from Scotland?” Alice tilted her head with a sharp expression. “Are you sure?” She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “These people cannot be trusted. They are cruel to those beneath their station.”

“I know because I was there. Her son could not afford to buy her indenture. Malcolm was afraid Iona would not survive the harsh conditions here, but I am younger and I can.”

“How noble . . .” Alice turned to stare at her feet as they walked along. “My family would have done the same thing for me had they all not already been auctioned off themselves.”

The indentured servants parted to make room for the man on the horse who rode between the two adjacent tobacco fields. Much younger than Mr. Fairbanks, he had brown hair pulled behind his neck under a tricorn hat. He wore a dark green jacket made of fine material and tan riding breeches that disappeared into tall black leather boots.

“Who is that?” Lauren asked, nudging her friend.

“Rob Mallard, the young heir.” Alice smiled and lowered her voice. “Rumor has it from the slaves at the main house he is quite a ladies’ man. He is sort of handsome. Do you not think?”

The word
handsome
brought Malcolm MacGregor to mind and a familiar ache at being separated from him. “Nay, I am afraid only one mon will ever be handsome to me, and since I am to be separated from him for an indefinite time, I do not wish to think on him.”

The man on the horse drew closer. More servants parted for him. Lauren and Alice moved to the right as he passed. A satchel strapped to the side of his saddle came undone. His horse bounced with each step until a small book fell onto the ground. Afraid it would be ruined, Lauren rushed to pick it up.

“Sir! Ye dropped yer book.” Lauren called after him. She glanced down to see that it was Shakespeare’s
Hamlet
. Rob Mallard paused and gave her a quizzical glance, his lips twisted in distaste. Other servants around her gasped in shocked concern. Lauren realized their concern was for her. Had she done something wrong? Her insides began to quake. Perhaps she wasn’t allowed to speak to the Mallards unless first spoken to.

“My what?” Rob demanded. His tone wasn’t one of anger, but more like someone who was impatient and ready to move on. “Who spoke?”

Fear paralyzed her, but she couldn’t afford to invoke his wrath or let anyone else take the blame for her folly. Lauren stepped forward, lifting her chin. “I did. My name is Lauren Campbell.” She held out the book as she approached him with hesitation. “I am sorry to bother ye, sir, but I thought ye would want to know yer book fell. ’Tis such a lovely copy of Shakespeare’s
Hamlet
and ’twould be a shame for it to be ruined.”

Surprise lit his brown eyes as he took more time to study her face. He reached out to accept the book and tilted his head. “How did you know it was
Hamlet
?” He raised a speculative eyebrow.

“It says so on the binding.” Lauren pointed to the book and gulped.