Losing the Earl: Regency Romance Clean Read (Yearnings for Love Book 2) (4 page)

Her father had downed a few glasses of wine; his harpsichord playing gave him away. He wouldn't play if not at least tipsy. He would play for a few minutes at a time stopping mid-composition to converse, or tell a joke. He started playing Bach’s “The Well Tempered Clavier” and skipped to “Praeludium XV.” He always played this when looking to impress company. 

Mary excused herself to look for Samuel. Outside the billiards room she heard laughter and the sounds of a game in action. She couldn’t see who Samuel was speaking to as she waited just outside the door.

“You ever hit a boar up close with a Baker Rifle?”

Mary couldn’t make out the response.

“It’s a magnificent thing, the beasts head explodes. They were made for the infantry but I have a friend who is a Colonel and he gifted me two of them. The only thing better than a good hunt is heading to a brothel after the hunt. Though, now that I’m going to be married, I must switch up when I go home for it and when I go out for it. How do you deal with that?”

Mary wanted to heave. She needed the company of friends to make her feel right again. She followed the sounds of fathers playing. Outside the music room, she stopped as did her father’s playing.

“So, when you got to Italy it was all gone?”

“Napoleon is a little thief. I just realized how poorly I worded that. He has stolen many Roman treasures, which are now in Paris. But I have this…” William stopped, “Lucy please don’t get up, I’ll bring it to you after Mr. Wentworth has a look.”

“Is this your handy work?”

“Yes. I do not do the master justice.”

“I am amazed…breathtaking.” Lucy's voice annoyed Mary. She didn’t like her complimenting William, not that it mattered. But something about it stirred unexpected feelings
—of jealousy?—
in hearing Lucy voice it.

“That is painted on the ceiling of the Popes private chapel, called the ‘Sistine Chapel.’ Napoleon obviously couldn’t take that back to Paris.”

“My goodness, I never knew I looked so beautiful.” Hearing the tone in Lucy 's voice forced Mary into action and she entered the music room. Lucy lay on a red velvet fainting chair. She held open a leather bound sketch and was studying a portrait of herself. William's hands were blackened by drawing charcoal.

William noticed her and turned and smiled. “I’m not done with you, but here, may I have that?” Taking the book from Lucy, William turned the pages back to another charcoal drawing. Adam sat naked with one arm outstretched as the hand of God reached out to give life.

“God giving life to Adam after creating the world, I do not do it justice, but is it not amazing to dwell upon?”

Mary felt her face warming, “He seems to be missing something.”

“God did not create Adam clothed.”

Mary flipped through the pages. Each page contained drawings of people and places where William had been. He explained each of the drawings. She stopped on one that seemed out of place. The sketch was a cross section of a ship, done in ink, with notes and labels.

“You’ve found one of my boats,” he smiled. “I hope to design them upon returning home. I do these drawings so when I go places I can share with the people I meet the places I’ve been. When I get home, I’ll be able to show my father the people I’ve met during my journey.” He perked up. “Would you mind if I sketched you? I’d like to show you to him and tell him about you and your family’s kindness towards me during the blizzard.”

It seemed harmless, maybe even fun. Lucy got up and sat next to Mary ‘s father at the piano as Mary moved to take her place. William returned to a stool already set up for drawing. With the book in his lap, he began moving charcoal over parchment.

“What is Rome like?” asked Mary.

“When Thomas and I arrived it was late in the summer so it was hot. The air had a … moistness to it. Late in the day, there would sometimes be thunderstorms. At night, clouds would fill with lighting that would not strike but move in silent waves across the sky. The architecture is … I could not do it justice with words, you should consider your wedding trip there.” 

“We shall get away to her new estate in Arthingworth,” Samuel said as he came into the room. He positioned himself behind William to watch him work.

“Do you not live there?” said William.

“We are to be married in a month or two, but July is the best time for hunting wild boar and foxes. Nothing quite so good a victorious hunt followed by a trip to the local tavern.”

Mary's stomach knotted.

“The kippers and that library,” Thomas added, “man I wish I could bring it all home. You have some fine books here. I see you have some books on Egypt, I was so happy we got to stop over there. That short little son of a --” Thomas stopped himself realizing there were women in the room, “um…French woman. Napoleon had his soldiers shoot up some of the statues there. Terrible man.”

“I didn’t see any of Egypt in your sketchbook,” said Mary.

“I’ve got a dozen or more of these,” said William. “This is the only one I brought from the carriage with my luggage.”

“Good that you can find culture somewhere, being that America has neither composers, art nor song,” said Samuel.

“That’s untrue sir.” Thomas interjected.

“I don’t think the song and dance of the savages count as culture.”

“When I was a slave, we sang all day. Might not be like opera singing but those songs had something more.”

“Could I hear one of you songs?” Mary asked.

Thomas smiled warmly. “I’d be happy to sing for you.” He straitened himself, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and began singing:

“Do you see the rain a coming?

No, rain coming, all dry ain’t no water running.

Do you see the storm coming?

No, rain coming, all dry ain’t no water running.

Do you see the rain a coming?

I see, rain coming, from the south water be running.

Do you see the storm coming?

No, rain coming, all dry ain’t no water running.”

The melody was slow and somber. As he continued singing, Mary looked over at William, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. The melody was nice and the words simple, about rain coming from the south, but they didn’t make sense because it was raining without a storm.

“That’s beautiful,” Mary said.

“You okay? I didn’t think before I started singing that song.” Thomas looked a William.

“It always makes me feel mortified when you sing that.” William wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.

“That’s kids poetry, you’d ball your eyes out at Romeo and Juliette.” Samuel quipped.

“What you’re missing in the song is a code,” William said, collecting himself.

“I don’t understand, a code?” He folded his arms. “Not symbolism, I’m perplexed by this nonsense.” 

Thomas sighed, “The code goes like this, if the rain is coming it means you fixing to run. Now, the line about the storm coming, that means how bad you been beaten. We say water running because we gonna run like water, you say the direction opposite you gonna run in case anyone figures it out. But you say, Do you see the storm coming? I see rain coming, heavy water be running. That means you’ve been beaten bad and you still going to run. We would sing that because if we said what were doing we’d be whipped. When I was five, I was taken from my mother and sold. Every six months on the plantation I was given burlap to make my clothes with. First time someone told me what the song meant is when I learned I could run. Come thirteen years of age, I sing this song on the day I plan to run. People gave me potatoes, the scraps they had, their extra food, bottles of water, and as soon as it got dark I started out.”

Thomas had everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat. “Because of this song, another slave I was with, named Johnathan, he run with me. He didn’t make it as far as I did. They shot him and strung him up in a tree. I didn’t have no shoes, and I ran every day, my feet was blood at the end of legs. This was at the end of summer and I’d made it from Wilmington North Carolina all the way to Baltimore. By the time I got to Baltimore,  it was winter, my feet left a trail of red footprints. Every time I lay down, I prayed the Lord would take me. I wasn't gonna be a slave no more and dying free was all I could ask for. So I got on a boat in the harbor and figured I’d hide. And that’s where I met William’s father.”

William leaned back, intent on the story. Thomas continued.

“He was the first person to show me kindness. He got a me a doctor and after my feet healed and I could walk again, he gave me clothes, food and a job. Ships is hard work, but I choose it. But knowing that song is how I was able to escape, ’cause I told people I was running. Every day, I think of the people I left behind, I wonder where my mother is, if she be okay and if she’s alive. Every time I pray, I ask she’s not beaten or hurt or worse. To live in fear every moment is what slavery is...”

Wind vibrated off the windows and howled around the house.

“No one should be made to face that kind of treatment. That is…” But Mary didn't’ know what else to say. She could understand why the song stirred such feelings in William.

Samuel rolled his eyes. “The man with the whip only had it placed in his hand because God gave it to him by means of providence.” When no one responded, Samuel ran a hand through his hair and blew out a deep breath. He looked only mildly uncomfortable. “This is a bore, I shall return to billiards.”

Chapter 8

Standing next to Samuel in the ballroom, Mary wondered how many more times in her life she’d have to do this. Lucy and Victoria's parents allowed them to be courted by suitors. In the coming year, they would be asked which admirers to allow permission to propose. Yet in the largest room in the house, Mary felt trapped with Samuel. He had stolen her eyes when they first met. But now…

She felt his hand on the top of her hip just like last night, but now he was doing it in a room full of people.

“Impropriety.” She said, taking a step away from him.

Samuel ignored her as he stood facing the ballroom's entrance. The rest of the guests were looking that way too. William and Thomas entered the ballroom but had obviously drawn attention to themselves somehow. William and Thomas entered the ballroom both wearing pantaloons like it was nothing. Did they not own knee breeches? The room fell silent for a moment. Samuel whispered in her ear, “Oh look it’s too sweet to the sweet my love. The buffoon, a regular Iago with his pet Othello over there. Do you think the savage will mistake you for Desdemona and try mounting you?” He chortled at his secret joke.

“I am amazed you hunt pigs. I thought you would have some sympathy for your own kind.” Mary made a direct line to William and Thomas.

“I would love nothing more if you would be willing to have a dance with me.” She said, offering William her hand. 

“My goodness, I’ve never been asked by a lady to dance before. How could I deny you?”

Their interaction cued the rest of the room to return to normal. Mary waited for the music to play before saying anything more. “Why are you wearing pantaloons?”

“Because without them covering me, I would be exposed like Adam and I feel I may offended the sensibilities of the women here, and maybe a foot man or two.”

“You know etiquette demands you wear knee breeches and stockings?”

“That’s why we garnered such attention, and here I thought Thomas and myself were the most handsome men here.” William looked down a lot while dancing, he was not near as graceful as Samuel. Looking over his shoulder, Mary saw her mother dancing with Thomas and Samuel fuming in a corner.

“I’m dancing with you because someone needs a reminder of his place.”

“I understand you are spoken for. I never thought of myself as the jealousy making type.”

“I did not like you calling him a pig yesterday. Though…” She wanted to tell him that he really was a pig. Maybe he would be her foul weather friend. When it stopped snowing, he would be gone forever

William studied her. “Thomas is not the type to stand up for himself. There is more to his story than what he told you, but that is not my story to tell. I could not abide while my friend receives barbs. If I ruined your dinner, then I ask for your forgiveness.”

“No.” Mary felt weightless, William lacked grace, but she didn't have to worry about her words with him.

“No, you won’t forgive me? Or no I did nothing wrong?”

“Either, or rather neither. That is, I…” But Mary was distracted. She had slightly hoped that by asking William to dance Samuel’s parents were offended enough to say or do something, but no such luck. She had no idea how much money or land they would get from her dowry, but it had to be a large enough sum to keep them quiet.

“I was worried he’d invite me to pistols at dawn or something if I said yes to dancing with you. Back home it is a bit different if you say yes to dancing with a spoken-for woman.”

“Not ready to die for my honor?”

“I’ve seen a few duels in my lifetime. They are quite awful whether it be swords or guns. When men set out to settle their honor in such a manner, they lose something of what makes humanity noble.”