by Deeanne Gist
He frowned. “I’ll show you.”
She tightened her grip on his shoulder, stopping him. “Where are you going?”
“To get my Bible.”
“Right now? You can’t get your Bible out right now! I‘m, I’m, we’re just about to, to...” She’d never be able to go through with this if he got out his Bible. She wiped all humor from her face. “I believe you. Proverbs 5:18. 'Rejoice, relish, and romp with your husband.’”
He chuckled. “I’m serious, Connie, and I won’t have you feeling ashamed or unclean over anything we do in that bed, tonight or any other night.”
“I won’t. I feel unashamed and very clean. I promise. But please don’t get out that Bible.”
“What? Think you God can’t see us right now?”
Groaning, she slid off his lap and covered her face with her hands. He sunk to his knees in front of her, drawing her hands down. “I love you. You love me. We are man and wife. God is watching, Connie, and He is very, very pleased.”
I love you. It was the first time he’d said it to her. She’d known it, of course. Known it since he’d killed Mr. Meanie, but she hadn’t realized how much she wanted to hear the words. A warm glow flowed through her.
And, truth was, she didn’t feel ashamed. And she had in the very back of her mind worried over it. Smiling, she tilted her head to the side. “Shall we rejoice?”
He grinned. “By all means.”
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to their marriage bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A cacophony of voices filtered up from the cellar, punctuated by short barks of laughter. Josh dropped the ticks, quietly closing the front doors behind him. “Wait here.”
The clamor grew louder as he made his way down the stairs. Standing on the bottom step, he watched as one-by-one the men noticed him, stopped speaking, and jumped to their feet.
He advanced into the room. “Dig you den.”
Thomas stepped forward and they clasped hands. “Welcome home, Master Josh.”
“Thank you, Thomas. It’s good to be back. I can see the lot of you have been enjoying Mary’s meals. You men were but a big bag of bones when we first arrived.”
A few chuckles and murmurs of agreement answered him. He made a point of greeting each man with a handshake, a slap on the shoulder, and a comment or two. He mentioned his sorrow over the loss of Browne and Payne, as well as his pleasure that everyone else was in such good health. They relaxed some, but none resumed their seats on the floor.
“I decided to try out my new chambers and thought I’d best come down and warn you of my presence. I had no wish to confront any of you in the midst of the night thinking I was a cutpurse of some kind.”
More chuckles and murmurs. He scanned the bricked-in room. “You’ve been busy. The house is spectacular, and Drew says the tobacco crop is one of the best we’ve ever had. It’s pleased I am to come back to such news.”
All but Thomas dropped their eyes and shuffled their feet. “Thank you, sir.”
“‘Tis I who should be doing the thanking.” Josh slapped Thomas again on the shoulder. “Well, I’m going to borrow some of the split wood I saw outside and then retire. Good night, men. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Flames cavorted among the logs, devouring the pine kindling before taking the slow-burning oak into its embrace. Josh poked at the fire, trying to maximize the amount of heat it put forth, for the barren chamber was cold, as well as quiet and very still.
Nary a sound reached them from belowstairs. Josh glanced at Mary’s form hovering just inside his doorway. He hadn’t wanted the men to know she was here, aware of what the implications would be if they had. He’d planned to have her sleep here in his chamber while he slept in Drew’s with no one the wiser. But the more he thought of it, the more impractical that became.
What if one of the men did come abovestairs? How could he even begin to protect her when he lay in a completely different room? There weren’t even any doors yet. And those men had been without women for a very long time. She’d be lying alone here much like a lamb waiting for the slaughter.
Besides, it was deuced hard to warm these huge chambers, and he had no desire to lug up another stack of lumber. No, it would be best if they both slept in here together, where he could keep his eye on her. “Come, Mary. Warm yourself.”
She did as he instructed, but with obvious hesitation. He gave his full attention back to the fire, thinking it might put her more at ease if he were to be engrossed with its care.
When the fire became too hot to tend, he retrieved the ticks from across the room and threw them in front of the hearth. “Sit down, Mary. Please.”
She wrung her hands, then did as he asked, looking much like a newly placed fence post--stiff, sturdy, and rigid. He settled onto the other tick, propping his elbow on his bent knee while fingering the toothpick in his mouth. Silence permeated the room while each watched the flames paw at the thick pile of logs.
It was highly improper what they were doing. And both knew it. The emptiness of the house and room only added to the feeling of isolation and seclusion. A room even as bare as the cottage at least had a bed, a board, benches, and chests. This room had absolutely nothing except two ticks, a man, a woman, and a very large wooden floor. To pretend the atmosphere wasn’t wrought with tension was ludicrous.
He glanced at her, feeling sure she was cognizant of it. She still held herself perfectly erect in the midst of her tick, arms wrapped around knees that hugged her chest beneath her skirt. He rolled the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.
Adding to the impropriety of it all was the risk of being caught by one of the eight men only two stories below them. If they were to be discovered, the men might think Mary was free game from then on. He sighed. He should have left her at the cottage and come here alone. “Do you wish to go back?”
If possible, her body stiffened even more. “Needs I?”
He slowly removed the toothpick from his mouth. “I’ll not be making any advances on you, if that’s what you mean.”
The grip she had on her hands relaxed some. “I see no need to return until morning, I don’t. Not unless you wish it.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
She looked at him then, but didn’t ask. Didn’t ask why he’d baited Drew. Didn’t ask why he’d whispered inappropriate words through the courting stick. Didn’t ask why he’d been making such an idiot of himself. But she didn’t need to. Those huge eyes of hers said it all.
He clamped down on the toothpick. “I found your husband.”
She pulled her gaze away from him.
“He was already six feet under, though, so I couldn’t tear him apart for you. Seems somebody else beat me to it.”
Laying her forehead against her updrawn knees, she made no comment.
“Wish you to hear the details?”
“You are sure it was Obadiah?” Her voice was muffled but very distinguishable in the vacant room.
“I’m sure.”
She shook her head. “I care not for the details, I don’t.”
Look up, Mary. Are you crying? Or are you simply relieved? Look up and let me see. She remained as she was, hiding within the folds of her skirt.
“I saw where you lived. Where you worked. Met your neighbors.”
The burning logs shifted, spitting out tiny flickers of fire before settling into a new position. He gazed at the nape of her neck, exposed by her position and tickled by a few fine dark hairs slipping from beneath her cap. “Ruth Parker sends her greetings.”
She turned her face toward him while keeping her head against her knees.
“She’s expecting her eighth. Might well have had it by now.”
He watched in fascination as she slowly blinked her eyes, a leisurely down sweep of lashes, tarrying for a moment before swinging open again. She asked nothing and, indeed, he had nothing more to tell. Her neighbors had been very reluctant to talk to him at all. If it had not been for thi
s Ruth woman, he might never have found Obadiah--or his remains, as the case may be.
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
So jolting was her question that it took him a moment to realize she wasn’t talking of Ruth but of Hannah. He took a deep breath. He hadn’t spoken about it to anyone. Not in England, not here, not anywhere. He’d simply posted the announcement and left.
Yet with Mary, he didn’t have to be the successful tobacco factor from the colonies. He didn’t have to be the I‘m-okay-even-though-I’ve-been-jilted younger brother. He didn’t even have to be the master, as Drew implied. With Mary, he need only be Josh. He snapped his toothpick in two. “I found her between the sheets with my best friend.”
He heard her quick intake of breath and chuckled humorlessly. “Know you what the saddest part is? I regret the loss of my friend more than I do the loss of Hannah.”
“I’m so sorry, Josh, but it’s glad I am that you found out before the wedding day.”
“I’m still incensed about it, Mary. The humiliation was beyond words.”
He tightened his lips. “I had intended to remain in England once I married and simply receive Drew’s shipments and fill his orders from there. I’m the only factor I know of who travels back and forth and have only done so to help Drew with the harvest. But he has men to help him with that now. So even though the marriage is off, I’m leaving when the next ship comes through.”
She slowly lifted her head up off her knees. “He’ll be heartbroken, he will. He cares for you very much and speaks of you often.”
“He has a new wife, a new home, and a new life. He’ll get over it.”
She said nothing for a long, long time. “Know you how to read your Bible, Josh?”
He humphed. “Between my mother, my father, and my grandmother, they made sure I read the thing frontwards, backwards, and upside-down. Alas, I’ve memorized half of it, I think.”
“Lucky, you are. I know not how to read and have only heard what the father offered on an occasional Sunday morn.”
“I would be happy to read to you, Mary. Any time you’d like.”
She offered a hint of a smile. “Do you believe what it says?”
He squinted into the fire. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Hmm.”
He slanted her a glance. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, I know not,” she said, lifting her shoulders. Just thinking of how I believed as you did, yet still Obadiah robbed my happiness.”
Frowning, he shook his head. “What are you talking about? One has nothing to do with the other.”
Unraveling her hands, she turned her face toward him. “That’s what I thought. I thought if I was clever or careful I could save my babies. But in the end, I couldn’t. I realized I had no power at all. So I gave God complete control over my life, I did.”
“When was that?”
“When Obadiah killed the babies.”
He was silent a moment. “I mean no disrespect, Mary, but since that time your husband was press-ganged and murdered and you have been tried for perjury, deported, indentured, and sold. If that’s what you can expect by giving God 'control,’ then I think you’d be better off handling things on your own.”
She turned back to the fire. “Just be careful that you don’t let Lady Hannah rob you of your home, your family, or your very soul.”
He shifted, seeking a more comfortable position. “I had decided to leave Virginia long before I discovered Hannah was a bedswerver.”
“I speak not of your leaving, I don’t. I speak of your easy and caring nature.”
“You refer to a glass-gazing, knotty-pated, naïve Josh. He exists no more.”
Silence. “Then I will mourn the loss of him.”
She stretched out on her tick, and after a moment’s pause, he followed suit. They now lay feet-to-feet along the front of the fireplace. After a long while, her deep, even breathing reached his ears.
He, however, didn’t sleep but for snatches at a time, finally rising in the predawn hours to stoke the fire.
He had wanted Drew to have the pleasure of waking with his bride in total privacy. With that in mind, he’d brought corn pone over yesterday and left it in the storage room belowstairs, and he intended to have the men fed and packing hogsheads by the time the sun touched the horizon.
For Mary, it would mean a morning off from her ever-present task of feeding the multitudes. Opening the cloth pouch on his belt, he removed a battered chicken feather and ran his fingers along it for quite some time before brushing it across his lips, laying it beside her, then moving downstairs to wake the men.
Christmas Day dawned bright and sunny. Constance smoothed her hand down the waist of her new dress, anxious for Drew’s reaction. He’d been quite busy the past week and she’d not seen much of him after that first day.
She hadn’t seen much of Josh either, for that matter. He’d continued to sleep in the big house, though Mary returned to the loft, and he only took the evening meals with them, opting to stay in the fields the rest of the time.
She wondered how Sally and Grandmother were. They would see them at the service today. Grandma planned to stay on with Nellie, but Sally was to come home with them afterward. Constance couldn’t wait. She’d missed the little moppet terribly. Her only regret was she hadn’t been able to personally give her the green dress she’d made from her leftover fabric.
But Josh had insisted on taking it to her yesterday. He’d wanted to see Grandma and Nellie and then stay the night with them, meeting Drew and Constance at church on the morrow.
Well, the morrow was here and she couldn’t wait to embark on her first outing as Mistress O’Connor. The walk to church would totally wet the bottom of her skirt and soil her shoes, but it mattered not. It was Christmas Day. She would meet new friends and Drew would be at her side the whole day through.
A great deal of noisy crunching heralded the approach of Drew and his men on the icy ground outside the cottage. She tightened the bow at her chin, ran a hand down her stomach, and then glanced at Mary. “Are you ready?”
Mary nodded, her only concession to Christmas being a beautiful lavender ribbon tied about her waist. Constance had oohed and aahed over it before Mary finally confessed that Josh had given it to her.
The door opened and Constance’s heart stopped beating. Drew had dressed for the occasion as well. She’d grown so used to seeing him in the same type of garments day in and day out she’d never imagined him wearing anything else. But, oh, what a sight he was in his burgundy doublet slashed along the sleeves to accommodate the full white shirt bulging from its slits. Fine linen had been sewn to the cuffs and front opening, shown to fine effect against his camel-colored jerkin. His loose maroon breeches matched his doublet and were fastened below his knees. He reached up and removed a stiff beaver hat. He looked from Constance to Mary, then indicated with a nod of his head for Mary to leave. Mary scurried out of the cottage, grabbing her shawl before closing the door behind her.
“You said you had enough material for your gown.”
Constance blinked, glancing down at her dress. “I did.”
“Then what happened to the bodice?”
“Nothing happened to it. Why? What’s wrong?”
His face filled with color. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? The upper swell of your breasts are exposed!”
She laid a hand across her chest. “Is it lower than what the women here wear?”
“By trow, Connie, look at it!”
She jerked her hand down to her side. “I asked you what the fashions here were and you said anything I made would be fine! Scooped bodices are all the rage in London and usually cut much, much deeper. But this one is perfectly decent. Am I to believe no one here wears scooped bodices?”
“Of course not!”
She swallowed hard, holding her tears in check. “I see. Well, I’ll just wear one of my everydays, then.” She turned her back, moving to retrieve one from a peg.
Softe
ning his voice, he took a couple of steps forward. “Haven’t you a neckpiece or something?”
She shook her head, silent tears now pouring down her face.
“Are you crying?”
She shook her head again, but he’d moved behind her, turning her to face him.
“Oh, Connie. Maybe the other women do wear scooped bodices. I honestly know not. All I know is, when you try and pack yourself into a bodice of that sort, well, it worries me. What if you had to sneeze or something? You’d be in jeopardy of...”
Her shoulders wilted. “That is the most addlepated thing I’ve ever heard. This neckline barely dips below my throat. I’m not in jeopardy of anything.”
He looked unconvinced. “I suppose you could leave it on. The meetinghouse doesn’t have a fireplace, so we’ll all be in overcoats. No one will ever know.”
“What about afterward?”
He rubbed his palms up and down her arms. “The men’s military exercises are all out-of-doors, and any indoor activities will be in the frigid meetinghouse. You can simply claim you’re not used to these Virginia winters and wish to keep your overcoat on. The bottom of your skirt will still be visible.”
Bitter disappointment pushed more tears from her eyes.
“Now what’s wrong? I said you could wear it.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I w-wanted you to l-like my dreeessssss.”
“The gown makes my mouth water, love.”
She swiped at her tears. “Drew, will the other women take off their overcoats?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I want to take mine off. I can’t possibly keep it on all the day long.”
He glanced at her neckline. “Oh yes you can. Now wait here and I’ll be right back.”
Moments later, he returned with a beautiful sizeable fur draped across his arm. Constance stroked the soft orangish-red fur, cool to the touch from being outside. “Fox?”
“Yes.”
“When did we eat fox?”