by Deeanne Gist
The goat was forgotten, but their hands remained joined.
“Drew?” she breathed.
He jumped up and back like a sprung spring. The morning song within her slowed. Breathing became a challenge. An emotion just short of horror raced across his face.
He cleared his throat. “If you milk with two hands, it will go more quickly.”
She waited a moment, letting him see her desire, before turning her attention back to Snowflake. She covered one hand with the other.
He tunneled his fingers through his hair. “No, Constance. I meant to milk two teats at once.”
She moved to another teat. With very slow progress, she managed to extract some milk.
“We usually get a full pail from her each morning.”
She nodded and continued with the task at hand.
He hesitated. “Constance, I...”
Stilling, she lifted her gaze to his.
“Nothing.” He clamped his mouth shut and strode away.
Snowflake followed him, knocking the pail over on her way. Constance squealed and tried to save what little milk she had. There was only enough to cover the bottom of the pail.
The friendly elm held its shady arms over the teacher and her pupil in the yard. Constance leaned against the trunk and smoothed her skirts around her. “You are to keep both eyes closed during the prayer.”
Sally’s brow furrowed. “I just seeing if you eyes closed.”
Constance quirked a brow. “Do you remember yesterday’s verse?”
She nodded vigorously. “'J was a Jay, that pwattles and toys. K was a Key, that lock’d up bad boys.’”
Sally’s bright eyes shone with pride and Constance suppressed the urge to gather the child up and laugh with delight. “Your Bible verse.”
“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide. “'Hark-un unto me, O ye child-wen: for blessed are they that keep My ways.’ Boberb twenty-thwee, fifteen.”
“Perfect. And the abecedarius?”
Sally jumped to her knees, causing a billow of dirt to rise around her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she chanted the alphabet.
“Oh, Sally, that was excellent. It’s pleased I am with you.” Picking up the gingerbread slate, she dusted it off and handed it to her. “Remember you what two and two added together make?”
“Foe!”
“Exactly.” She leaned over Sally’s shoulder as the moppet painstakingly wrote out the numeral with a piece of weathered oyster shell. It took up almost the entire slate. “What are one and two?”
“Thwee!”
Constance smoothed a hand down Sally’s back. “My, someone I know will be eating a lot of this gingerbread slate if she continues in such an excellent manner.”
Beaming, Sally continued with her work.
“What is the meaning of this?” Drew barked from the edge of the clearing.
Constance gasped. Sally hopped to her feet and ran to him. “Sissy learn me! Look!” Holding up her slate, she presented it to him.
He looked at Constance, his eyes conveying his fury. “What on God’s green earth do you think you are doing?”
Although the words were not meant for Sally, she could see the child’s anguish at his disapproval. “Sally, your verse for tomorrow is Proverb 14:17, 'He that is soon angry dealeth foolishly.’”
Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. “I do my numbers wrong?”
Constance opened her arms. “You did them perfectly. But enough for today. Let us close in prayer.”
Sally crawled into Constance’s lap, folded her hands, and bowed her head.
“Govern us with thy grace, O eternal Wisdom, and direct our steps in thy way. Amen.”
“I keep my eyes shut, Sissy.”
She brushed Sally’s tears. “That’s a good girl. Now run along inside and see if Mary is in need of any help.” As soon as Sally made it through the door, Constance rounded on Drew. “How dare you! She’s been working and working on her lessons and you’ve no right to crush her that way.”
“I will do much more than that if I ever catch you filling her head with such things again. She is to attend to tasks as belong to women, not meddle in things that are proper for men, whose minds are stronger.”
“Stronger, ha! All your brains buttered would not fill two spoonfuls.”
He straightened his spine. “You will heed me on this, Constance.”
“How can you ask this? She’s a bright child, her memory has no bounds, and already she’s learned her tables. Her potential is incredible.”
He took a step toward her. “I am the master, she is my sister, and I said no. That is the end of it.”
“She is my sister too.”
“Not for long.”
She blinked. He was, of course, right. But more and more she’d been toying with the idea of staying. Certainly, life wasn’t as easy here as it was in England, but when she was with Drew, easy didn’t matter. For every color was deeper, every taste richer, every sacrifice sharper. He might be acting like a woodcock at the moment, yet here with him, she was alive. Really alive. Even her home in England, her uncle, her math didn’t compare to what she felt for Drew. She nodded her head. She wasn’t toying with the idea at all. She had, in fact, made up her mind. She wanted to stay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Of course, she need not give up her math. She could edit the journal from here almost as easily as she could back home.
She didn’t think Drew would have any objection either, for he’d originally planned to accept their marriage. She was, after all, the one who’d insisted on the annulment. And if that weren’t enough, he desired her. Hadn’t he demonstrated such many a time throughout the last several weeks?
Yes. Yes, he had. And for the first time ever, she reciprocated the feeling. She took a deep breath. “No, Sally’s not my sister. Not really. But I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
He waited, posture stiff, eyebrows drawn. Perhaps this wasn’t the best of times. Still, she wanted the matter settled. She moistened her lips. “It’s obvious you want to take me to wife, Drew. And since I’m already here, we’re already wed, and there are no better prospects waiting for me in England, I agree to be your wife in all things. I will, of course, still need to edit the Ladies’ Mathematical Diary, since Uncle Skelly no longer can.”
He said absolutely nothing. Doubts assailed her. Surely he wouldn’t refuse her. He wouldn’t dare.
“Do you see how schooling has ruined you? Listen to yourself. Think you I will fall at your feet the moment you crook your finger?”
She blinked, momentarily baffled. “What is it? You wish a financial settlement? It’s a bit late for that, but I’m sure Papa would concede, and truly, I should have thought of it earlier.” She pursed her lips. “You could probably get eight thousand pounds out of him, but I definitely wouldn’t settle for less than seven thousand.”
“That is as much vain bibble-babble as I’ve ever heard, and thank you, but no. I’ve no wish to be yoked to a woman of learning.”
She sucked in her breath. Had she imagined those quiet moments that had passed between them? Imagined the desire she’d seen flare in his eyes? Placed more on them than was meant to be simply because she’d wanted to? Oh, sweet heaven above, she hoped not. That would be too humiliating by half. “What are you saying, Drew?”
“I’m saying I want you not as a wife. And even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t allow you to participate in mathematical pursuits nor teach Sally anything improper.”
Her heart pounding, she clasped her hands together. She tried to swallow but couldn’t. “I see. Please forgive me. I foolishly thought it was my idea to keep the marriage chaste. I was under the impression marriage was not taken lightly in the colonies and when a ceremony is performed, it is meant as a covenant with God until the couple’s death.” She lifted her chin. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have been thinking entirely too much, for I’d even begun to worry about how our annulment would affect you after my departure, particula
rly in regard to the council. I had thought perhaps they might still banish you, or at least break an arm or two.”
He opened his mouth then slowly closed it.
She took a step back. “No, no. Prithee, say no more. You’ve made yourself abundantly clear and I should have known it without us having to undergo such an awkward scene.” She blinked her eyes rapidly. “My apologies. I’ll not bother you with it again, nor will I teach Sally anything other than religion and womanly type skills.” She whirled and rushed into the cottage.
Lord help him, he’d handled that badly. But what was he to do? He had no idea she’d ever consent to stay. Besides, he’d never had anyone propose to him before. It didn’t help any that she’d all but said she would settle for him since the only clumberton waiting in the wings was fifty years her senior.
He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was stunned she remembered so much of what he’d said to her when they’d frantically negotiated the terms of their marriage. But remember she did, and she had no trouble throwing it back at him.
Then all that diary business. How could she possibly think he’d let his wife involve herself in academics? He’d certainly been in the right there and didn’t regret putting a stop to those tutoring sessions either. He sighed. He should never have encouraged her in that area to begin with. Should have, in fact, thrown out that diary back when she first got here. Words his father had taught him echoed within.
Be to her virtues very kind;
Be to her faults a little blind;
Let all her ways be unconfin’d;
And clap your padlock--on her mind.
Yes. He’d done the right thing by refusing her. But how was he going to walk inside that cottage as if nothing had happened?
He’d taken no more than two steps when he saw them. All were boys, all were naked, and one wore a bit of red braid around his neck. Drew took a deep breath. “Comoneetop.”
The boys nodded and laid down their weapons. A good sign. That and the fact that they’d come without any fully grown men. Still...
“Constance,” Drew called. “Bring the mats from inside the cedar chest.”
She took forever. When finally she appeared with them, she went no further than the door, looking quickly to Drew, concern etched on her face.
“It’s all right. Give me those, and we’ll also need my pipe.”
She glanced between him and the Indians, worrying her lip. “Where are your men?”
“In the fields. I came back early because a ship has come with cloth and other goods. Now go on. As of yet, there’s nothing to fear, and I’m still in need of my pipe. Get the churchwarden.”
Laying out the mats, he motioned for the boys to join him. They had just settled in a circle when Constance, her eyes trained on Drew, returned with his churchwarden pipe.
He sighed. “It might help if it was lit.”
“I’ve never done such a thing in my life. I know not how.”
He pierced her with his gaze. This gathering was of extreme importance, and the last thing he needed to deal with in front of these visitors was an unsubmissive female. “I’m sure you can figure it out since you are so very brilliant. Do it and do it now.”
Nodding, she whirled around, then froze. “My hair!”
Drew jumped to his feet, unsure of her intentions. The boys responded in kind.
“He’s wearing my hair.”
“Ignore it and go light the pipe. Quickly.”
She narrowed her eyes, pinning the youth with her displeasure. “I like it not.”
The boy grinned and made a short statement to his friends. They all nodded in agreement, repeating what he said, as if to try it out on their tongues.
“What did he say?” she asked, tension radiating from her stance.
“He’s given you a name.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll not tell you.”
How she managed to make her back any straighter he couldn’t imagine, but she did and the boys noticed it as well.
“What did he call me?”
Drew hesitated. “He said you will from this day forth be known as Red Spotted Wildcat.”
He barely wrapped a restraining arm around her waist before she lunged. With a look of apology to his guests, he wrested the pipe from her hand, shifted her in his hold, slung her over his shoulder and took her into the cottage.
She was going to kill them both. First she’d do away with Drew, and then she’d deal with the Indian. She continued to struggle, but Drew held fast. There apparently would be no relief from this ignominious position until he was good and ready. And it appeared he wouldn’t be ready until he carried her like so much baggage up to the loft and out of Mary and Sally’s sight. That was just as well. What she had in store for him would not be appropriate for Sally’s tender ears.
They were nearing the top of the ladder now, yet she continued with her struggle. He cursed and she gasped when his ascent faltered, but he managed to stay on.
At the top, he none too gently flung her onto the ticking. The force of the landing knocked the very breath from her and a wave of dizziness assailed her.
“In truth, Constance, you are pushing me beyond what any man should be expected to endure. Those may be youth out there, but do not fool yourself into thinking they are harmless. Their skills as warriors are not honed to perfection as of yet, but it’s warriors they are, if a bit rough around the edges. Before you come racing back outside waving a broomstick above your head, you might, for once, consider the consequences. Is a useless lock of hair or a title you consider unacceptable worth your life, my life, Sally’s life, and the lives of countless others?”
She raised a hand to her spinning head, keeping her eyes closed.
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“Every word.”
“And?”
She considered his words. “I will not attack your friends, but neither will I play hostess to them. Go light your own pipe.”
There was a moment of silence. The dizziness passed and she risked opening her eyes. He knelt on one knee, hovering above her. Close above her. She clamped her jaw against the direction of her thoughts. Had he not humiliated her, rejected her, tormented her? Oh, she wanted not to deal with this. She just wanted to roll over and escape in sleep. “Go away.”
“You will stay in the cottage until they are gone?”
“I will stay right here in this tick.”
His breath fanned her cheeks. “Very well. I will come tell you when they’ve left.”
He stood. Rolling to her side, she closed her eyes and curled up into a ball, listening for his retreat. He took a few steps before returning. She felt a coverlet feather fall across her body and snuggled beneath it. Then he was gone.
“She still asleep?” he whispered.
Mary nodded. “Not heard so much as a peep from her.”
Propping the bolts of cloth against the wall, he looked up toward the loft. Mary had already seen to the men’s supper and had even cleansed the dishes. Constance should have wakened long ago.
Had her seasoning begun so soon? Most of the servants went through a period of sickness where their bodies tried to adjust to this new world, a good percentage of them never making it past their first season here. It was so common, he and his fellow colonists had begun to call it “seasoning.” But usually it happened within their first few months, not their first few weeks.
He swallowed. Would she be dead by morning or would it be a long drawn out process? Thank God they hadn’t consummated the marriage. At least there was no babe to worry about.
Placing one foot in front of the other, he forced himself to go up and check on her. The loft was warm and she’d flung off her covers. Her cap lay carelessly to the side of the tick, her mussed hair full about her head. He cleared his throat.
No response.
“Constance?”
Nothing. He frowned and knelt down to touch her forehead. Relief swept through him. No fever.
Could it be fatigue and nothing more? He hoped to God that was the case...for her father’s sake, anyway.
He brushed the hair from her eyes. “Constance? Wake up. You’ve missed supper.”
Slowly, she twisted onto her back, stretching her arms and legs in a feline gesture. He didn’t know where to look, or where not to look.
Open your eyes, Constance. Open your eyes and remember your anger with me before I forget myself.
Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him with an intimate I’m-glad-to-see-you, sleep-induced smile. His breathing became labored.
“God ye good den.” The timbre of her voice could have melted butter.
He nodded.
She looked to the open side of the loft. “They’ve left, then?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. Long since.”
“What did they want?”
“To make peace.”
“Just like that? He apologized, then?”
No. “Yes. You’re feeling well?”
She propped herself up on her elbows. By trow, he would not look at the tension that caused in the fabric of her bodice.
“You say they’ve long since left? Why didn’t you wake me?”
He shrugged. ”I thought you might could use a bit of rest. How are you feeling?”
She sat up, noticed her twisted skirt, and turned a lovely shade of pink while quickly righting it. “I...oh, I’m fine. Thank you. You’re sure it went all right?”
“With the Indians? Yes. Better than I’d hoped. Seems you made quite an impression. Or your hair did, anyway.”
At its mention, she gathered her tresses up and shoved them into her cap.
He stood. “Come and share a trencher with me. It seems we’ve both missed supper.”
Supper? She’d missed supper? Suddenly ravenous, she followed Drew down the ladder. Sally sat in a corner as Mary plaited her hair for the night. Smiling, Constance winked at her. Sally tilted her head and tried desperately to wink back, scrunching up her face in various contortions.