Rebecca's Ghost

by Marianne Petit

  Elizabeth sat in the dining room at the long breakfast table, toying with the porridge in her bowl, her thoughts centered on the conversation with Mary.

  Mozart sat on the floor by her feet, purring.

  She glanced down at him. “Mary says I should put the past behind me.”

  The older woman’s words of wisdom, in regards to her guardian had been the center of her thoughts well into yesterday and for most of the two nights past.

  Mozart rubbed his face on her ankle.

  “Says not to judge every man’s affections through the memories of my past. I shall never forgive that man. What mother saw in him…”She pushed her bowl aside. ‘Twould be a long time coming before she could lock those painful images away.

  Elizabeth sighed. “Mary’s right. ‘Twasn’t my fault.” She’d had no control over her guardian’s vile actions. The plain and simple truth, she’d been no match against his strength and no amount of fighting would have kept him off her.

  Mozart meowed.

  “So you agree?” She reached down and rubbed her cat’s long black fur.

  Thank the good Lord the crowd, outside her window, had intervened before he’d had the chance to steal her virginity and any chance of happiness.

  “Do you wonder, as I do, of his whereabou--”

  “A bit of tea Mistress?”

  Elizabeth straightened, wondering if the servant had overheard her conversation, and prayed she hadn’t. “Nay. Thank you.” It wouldn’t do for anyone to learn about her guardian.

  “Scone?” Between two silver forks, the young blond held up a small biscuit.

  Elizabeth eyed the servant. The girl’s eyes appeared haunted by some inner anxiety.

  Did Nora think her mad? ‘Twouldn’t be the first time someone accused her of being a demon worshiper, simply because she talked to a black cat. A witch’s familiar; ‘twas what they called cats in her grandmother’s time.

  Elizabeth stared at her dish, at the painted roses and the gold edge rim, as the servant placed the scone down before her. “Thank you.”

  Peril lurks within its walls. The remembered words sent a pang of alarm to her breast.

  With dainty fingers, Elizabeth brought the tea to her lips and took a sip.

  She would have to be more careful, think before she spoke; for that saying the walls had ears, was a certainty in his house, rampant with hearsay and ill will. And then where would she go?

  Having no money, no one to turn to, she waited on a post from Boston, from a woman who held her fate in her hands. What if her mother’s girlhood friend had no place for her?

  Elizabeth’s hands shook as she settled the cup into the saucer.

  “Are ye feeling poorly mistress? Ye looks troubled.”

  She glanced up at the maid. “I am quite well.” Tension churned within her. “The tea was a bit hot, nothing more.”

  “‘Tis bad form for 'is Lordship to leave you eating alone every morn.”

  “His Lordship is a busy man, with a tobacco plantation to run.”

  “Found the time 'e did when 'is mistress was alive.”

  Elizabeth’s heart gave a little tug. “Now that he is alone, he must run the household as well as a thriving business. Idling around the breakfast table is a luxury I am sure he cannot afford to indulge in.”

  “Nora. I’ve an appetite for a spot of tea and a scone.” Philip’s deep voice broke into the conversation.

  Elizabeth's pulse leapt.

  If he had any indication he’d heard them, he hid it well beneath that chipper look and warm smile.

  “Good morning Mistress Elizabeth.” The chair legs scraped against the wooden floor as he settled into his seat opposite her.

  “Good day.” She nodded in response, glanced from her plate, to his roguishly handsome face. A nervous flutter tickled her stomach.

  Fashionably dressed, his buff colored striped silk taffeta waistcoat sharply contrasted his dark completion. The jabot of white linen, which lay on his neck and mid-chest, made his eyes seem clearer, sharper. The fabric’s brightness made the black rim surrounding the blue of his eyes appeared darker, as if lined with kohl.

  The pulse at the base of her throat pounded as though her heart had jumped up from its resting place.

  Her gaze fell, to the table, then rose.

  Nora rushed to the table and placed various cakes and breads before him. She poured him some tea, curtsied and moved to the corner of the room.

  He bit into the scone. “Mmm… quite good.”

  Fixated on his lips, Elizabeth recalled the way his kiss had made her feel warm and soft inside. How when he had pulled away, she’d felt disappointed.

  These newly found feelings, both confused and excited her, had left her little sleep, her emotions spinning around and around as fast as the glass bowls of her armonica, making her dizzy with turmoil.

  Suddenly aware of the silence and that she was staring at him she grabbed her biscuit and took a bite.

  “Please allow me to thank you,” he said.

  Confused by his words, Elizabeth stared. What manner of question did he put before her? Surely not what had transpired between them? She had thrown herself at him like some overeager harlot.

  Flushing profusely, she quickly picked up a knife and buttered another biscuit.

  “It has come to my attention that William had a fit Saturday.”

  His statement made her feel foolish. His words did not speak of her wanton behavior.

  “Yes.” Relief slowed her racing heart. “But I’m afraid I was the cause of his discomfort.” And you mine, she thought. “I grabbed his hand.”

  Extremely conscious of his virile appeal, she took another bite of her scone though a ball of tension knotted her abdomen.

  He shook his head. “Nay, I think not. He has these bouts from time to time, without reason. Neither you, nor I, or for that matter anyone else, can be blamed for his outbursts.”

  Her soul drank in, with a vague combination of trepidation and unfathomable pleasure, the deep sound of his voice.

  “I am of the opinion I can teach him. As I have mentioned, he seems to have an interest in music. Perhaps--”

  “Though I am pleased he likes your playing, he is a simpleton. He shall never learn,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Elizabeth’s knife dropped to her plate with a clink. “Forgive me. But how can you say such a thing? He’s your son.”

  He studied her over the rim of his cup. “You bear me a grave injustice believing I am not unaware of whom I sire. The boy, has shown no signs of learning and I have reconciled with the notion that he is simple minded and shall, I am told, forever remain as such.” His voice flat, his face stoic, he placed his cup on the table.

  Appalled by his lack of emotion, she frowned.

  “'Twould be prudent of you to disguise that look of disgust and perhaps be more agreeable,” he said, staring at her.

  “I believe more could be done on his behalf.” She knew she was overstepping her bounds, but William needed someone to believe in him.

  Philip's dark brows dangerously knotted together.

  She half-expected him to slam his fist to the table in annoyance.

  Her nerves tensed. “Of course with your permission,” she added quickly. “I would like to teach him how to play my armonica.”

  He took a bit of his scone and chewed, slowly, as though he digested her words.

  Whatever the reasons for his lack of retribution, Elizabeth hastily continued before he had a change of heart. “‘Tis the least I can do to repay you for the beautiful gowns you have given me.”

  “There is no need to repay me.” He glanced at her with interest. “Seeing you in them is payment enough.” His gaze traveled slowly across her bosom. “That gown suits you well.”

  The butterflies fluttering in her stomach grew stronger.

  “Nevertheless, I feel in your debt and would like to be his teacher whilst in your home.”

  His gaze lingered.

  She
swallowed dryly. Why had she allowed the seamstress to make the bodice so low? Casually she crossed her chest with her hand to block his view and toyed with a lock of hair at her collarbone.

  “You realize William does not trust anyone but Mary?” He picked up a spoon and scooped up a dot of cream.

  ‘Twas on the tip of her tongue to blame him for William's lack of trust, but she remained silent.

  “She’s been like a mother to him.” The cream dropped to his biscuit.

  Their gazes locked on one another, like two roosters about to battle.

  Her heart stirred despite the tension. “Children’s souls are so fragile, are they not?”

  ‘Tis true, a man wasn’t expected to rear a child, but given the fact William had no mother, he more than needed his father’s love and there was no excuse for neglect.

  She took a sip of tea.

  What ill manner 'twas working through her limbs?

  Her anger could not thwart, the quaking of her knees; the unjustifiable desire running its fingers along her body. Just his presence, sitting across from her, managed to steal her every thought- managed to defy the animosity over his indifference toward his son—managed to bring back reminiscent thoughts of a garden— of his kiss.

  The smell of fried meat wafted toward her pulling her from her reverie.

  “Who knows what sets a child's little mind’s a certain way. I will win over William's confidence,” she stated with confidence.

  Nora flounced over with a tray of steaming eggs and slabs of bacon and placed food on Elizabeth’s dish.

  When Philip’s plate was sufficiently full, she curtsied and once again moved to the corner of the room.

  “Your Lordship, tis most gracious of you to keep me company this morning; do you usually eat with William?” Elizabeth jabbed her fork into a piece of bacon.

  Philip’s face grew taut, pinched. Haunted by the inner anxiety she knew, she had put there with her question, his eyes clouded.

  He lifted a fork full of eggs from his plate. “Nay.”

  Silently she nibbled her bacon. “I noticed you have so many magnificent horses in your stables. William must be an expert rider.” Her gaze met his.

  Philip swallowed his food. The corner of his mouth twisted with exasperation.

  He shoveled another fork full of eggs onto his fork. “Since he's never stepped foot in the stables, I find that highly unlikely,” he said under his breath, before he put the fork into his mouth.

  ‘Twas clearly evident, by the way he chomped on his eggs and the way his face puckered as though he chewed a bitter lemon, that he was annoyed. Perhaps felt some remorse.

  He picked up his teacup.

  “He’s never ridden? One would think he would be an expert, even at such a young age.” She smiled sweetly. She knew she shouldn’t bait him, knew she was being unreasonable, but the fact that he spent little if no time with his son annoyed her.

  “Are you insinuating I’m not doing everything I can for him?” Philip's saucer hit the table with a loud clink. “That I haven’t agonized over his future? Nothing could be further from my intentions than the desire for him to be like every normal boy his age.” His voice raised an octave. “Nora. Leave!”

  Nora scurried from the room.

  “What’s normal in a child? William is just different.” Elizabeth's heart raced from the severe sternness of his tone, but she kept her words calm. “I believe there are quite a few things, if given the effort, he could learn.”

  “He’s not like every other child. Lest you forget what you've witnessed in the short time you've been here,” he said sarcastically. “I have done everything in my power for him. “

  Everything but spend time with him, Elizabeth thought as she noticed the taut muscles in his neck strain with controlled fury.

  “The last few years of my life I've made sure he never wants for anything. When I am gone, what will become of him? That is the question that keeps me up at night. “ His face contorted in agony. “'Tis not within his power to take care of himself, or run this plantation; and he certainly won’t know when someone is taking advantage of him.” He leaned forward. “I believe I know the boy better than you do.” His lips drew firm.

  She fidgeted in her seat.

  He was not used to having people question his authority. ‘Twas evident in the doctrinaire tone of his voice and the way his clear blue eyes seemed to burn into her, challenging her to provoke him further.

  She clasped her hands in her lap.

  Her heart raced.

  He threw his napkin on the table, then sat back in his chair.

  After a few seconds of composed silence, he continued calmly. “If you say the child likes music, once again, I thank you most graciously for discovering this. However, I hardly think you are qualified to pass judgment on his other abilities.”

  “I--”

  “My dear Elizabeth, I did not come in here this morning to argue, but rather to enjoy your company. If--”

  She opened her mouth in protest.

  He raised his hand to silence her before she could say a word.

  “If you feel you can accomplish what his teachers could not,” he stopped a moment, taking in the astounded look she knew registered on her face. “I know you think me ignorant and cruel.”

  “I am not of the opinion you are cruel.” Just ignorant.

  Philip gestured emphatically. “Nevertheless, I’ve given him every opportunity to learn, even if that meant hiring useless doves of tutors. To my distress, the child still does not speak.”

  “Perhaps, because of need of attention William chooses to remain silent.”

  “Your words cut me to the quick.”

  “Forgive me, your lordship. I did not mean to cause you any disrespect.” Elizabeth toyed with her eggs.

  She had overstepped her boundaries.

  He studied her silently. “Attention I warrant you believe can bring forth his voice? By all means do so,” he said with a dismissive gesture.

  “I believe you misunder--”

  “I can see no harm in trying. Now,” he reached over and picked up a piece of corn pone. “Let us go on to a different topic. This is delicious, is it not?”

  Annoyed at the abrupt end of their conversation, she stabbed a piece of bacon.

  Did William disappoint him so much he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word son?

  I hope you choke on that bread you are so thoroughly enjoying.

  She flashed him a forced smile.

  ***

  “Damn it Tyler.” Philip paced the floorboards of his study, frustrated at yet another barrier in his search for Rebecca’s lover. “Skent never got my message until now?” He stopped pacing and spun around. “Another delay in finding that bastard!”

  “Sir, there is much rioting in the streets of France. Although, ’tis only speculation, talk of a revolution- -”

  Philip crushed the investigator’s report in his hand.

  “I know all about the French’s’ displeasure over their royalty; but at this moment ‘tis naught of my concern. Perhaps I should hire someone else to get me the information I seek.”

  Tyler looked as though he were weighing the question.

  “What, you do not approve?” Philip flung the parchment to his desk.

  “‘Tis not for me to say.” Tyler sauntered to a table, picked up a pile of mail, laid the papers on the desk, then unwrinkled the report and placed it neatly down beside the other parchments.

  Philip let out an audible sigh.

  With every passing day anger grew like a gnarled tree, spreading its twisted fingers throughout his body, filling him with thoughts of revenge.

  “Confound it man, I ask you. I mean to challenge him.”

  Rebecca’s lover would pay for tarnishing his wife’s memory and for the pain he’d suffered thinking her loyal to him.

  “‘Tis the honorable thing to do, Sir.”

  “But?”

  A squeal of woman’s laughter floated
on the balmy summer breeze.

  Philip glanced to the open window.

  Tyler’s brow rose. “The past is the past and should stay as such. Nothing good can come from disturbing the rest of the dead.”

  “Nay. I shall have satisfaction.” Philip crossed the room to stand by the window.”‘Tis the only way to put my ghosts to rest.” He pushed aside the curtain and glanced down.

  With their arms flailing above their heads, Elizabeth and William ran around the yard chasing a bright orange butterfly.

  Envy hit him like a blast of gale.

  “As you wish, sir.” Tyler said, cutting into his thoughts. “I shall keep you abreast of any news.”

  The wind blew Elizabeth’s long hair behind her like a silver pennant.

  The afternoon sun illuminated the expression of delight on her beautiful face.

  “You know, she thinks me a terrible father.”

  Tyler stepped beside him. “I beg your pardon. Sir?”

  “Mistress Elizabeth.” He glanced at Tyler, then back outside. “She practically told me so to my face. Thinks I should spend more time with William.”

  Philip pivoted around, headed for his desk, dropped down into the leather chair and swung his feet up. His well-worn heels plunked the table.

  “Do these look like the boots of a man who has time to sit around and play with his son? I leave that to the women. Isn’t that what I pay them for?”

  “Yes, sir. Indeed, you do, sir.”

  “There you have it.” His feet hit the floor with a thud. “Tell that to Elizabeth. I have no time to stay inside and play games. If she had her way, my boots wouldn’t need any polishing.”

  “Nay, sir. None indeed.”

  Philip raked his fingers through his hair. By the blood of Satan, if that woman didn’t have him totally confused. One moment he wanted nothing to do with women, and then… The remembered feel of her lips pressed against his brought a stirring in his loins.

  He could not bring himself to talk about that kiss this morning at breakfast. He had wanted to apologize again, but the fear that he would once more cause her further embarrassment had caused his restraint.

  He glanced despairingly at Tyler. “Have I been such a failure as a father?”

  “Nay, sir. I don’t believe that you have.”