“Beggin’ your pardon, but you think I don’t see the way you been looking at me?” She leaned toward me, a challenging glint in her eyes, as she gathered her damp hair and held it up off her neck.
“What? I dinna, well I dinna, I,” I stammered, self-consciously moving back on the bed a little.
“Now don’t plead innocent with me. I saw the way you were looking at me at dinner. If you want me ter join you for a bath, just say so. Lordy knows I could use one after all that lugging.” She smiled, then trailed her fingers down her neck and lightly massaged the valley between her heaving breasts.
Suddenly understanding her meaning, it still took me a moment to find my voice. “I am a married woman!” I blurted, absurdly.
“What’s that got ter do with anything, lovey? Men are good for some things, but there are other things only a woman can do.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip then smiled at me, her small white teeth bright in the dim room. I felt a warming move up my body and quickly turned to peer out the window at nothing but the dark.
“I thank ye for fillin’ my tub, Abigail, but it’s time for ye to go now!”
“If that’s what you really want, but not before you hand over that dress. I won’t be getting inter any more trouble with old man Carleton because of you.”
Oh! The dress!
I peered down at my dirty frock then back at the amused face of the serving girl. She shook her head, then held out her hand. “Come now, lovey, I won’t bite. Just turn and I’ll undo those buttons for you and you can have your bath before it gets cold.”
The look in her eyes, told me she would not leave without the dress. I looked frantically around the small room for a privacy screen, but in vain. Reluctantly, I rose from the bed and turned then flinched as I felt the touch of her hand on my back.
“Relax, now wee lassie,” she teased, mimicking my Scots. She quickly released the long row of buttons. I felt the warm of her fingers as they brushed the small of my back. I turned and held the loose bodice up with my hands. My eyes were drawn to hers and a strange heat spread through me at the longing that heated the pale green depths.
“P-p-please turn around, so I-I can take off the gown,” I stuttered, furious with myself for my sudden confusion.
One corner of her mouth turned up and she nodded at me mockingly, “As you wish, Miss Meara.”
She turned toward the door and I quickly stepped out of the dress then held it out to her, touching the back of her arm with my hand.
Without turning, she reached back, her fingers searching the empty air for the dress. I pressed it into her hand but before I could pull away she closed her fingers around mine at the same time turning quickly. Then she dragged me forward and her full lips took mine. The kiss was soft, gentle, searching and oh so soft! The dress fell forgotten on the floor between us and I stood in all my naked glory, allowing myself to be kissed by a woman. A warm hand cupped my breast. Fingers circled the tip and tightened. I heard a sigh and a moan and vaguely knew the sounds were my own as I began to kiss her back.
It ended abruptly and I opened my eyes in stunned silence.
“Sweet dreams, lovey.”
And she was gone.
TWENTY
Indenturement Begins
Sunlight streamed through my window and I stretched languidly. Mingled sounds of male voices and the snort of horses drifted through my open window. I opened my eyes to the soft tap of a ladybird’s wings, against the window pane, as it searched for escape.
It felt so good to be clean.
At once, everything came back to me and I sat bolt upright.
After the beguiling Abigail left, I had stood frozen for a long moment, my fingers on my lips, a heat in my belly and not able to understand what had just happened and worse still, not able to understand my reaction.
Then I had sunk into the tepid water and submersed my aching limbs. The lye soap did not compare with my homemade wildflower soap. It had been strong and stung my eyes but I was clean for the first time in weeks!
After soaking in the tub until my skin had puckered, I had burrowed into the soft bed. Now I don’t know if perhaps it had been my state of undress, my disturbing encounter with Abigail or my longing for Duncan but I had dreamed of lips moving over mine, soft and pliable, hard and unyielding. Lips nibbled at my neck, whispered at my ear, in a language I could not understand. Fingers had touched my skin, explored my secret places; sweet dreams indeed!
The images teased – a haze at the edge of my mind but enough that I felt a glow, low down. I lay back on the soft pillows and could not help the slow smile that took my lips as I slid my hand down beneath the quilt. My hands were warm as I tiptoed my fingers between my parted thighs, searching. My fingers grew slick and I lifted my hips from the mattress to meet the thrust of my hand. I blinked away the laughing green eyes and summoned Duncan’s image, pictured his strong hands, his long fingers and...
A sharp knock interrupted and Abigail poked her head into my room.
Sweet Jesus!
I grabbed the quilt and pressed it to my chin, my guilty eyes telling all, I’m sure.
But Abigail was back to her haughty self. As though I had imagined the kiss, she threw me a passing glance of disdain, tossed my gown onto the bed then rested her hands on her ample hips. “My, my, aren’t you a sleeping beauty? I hate ter disturb your loveliness but breakfast is served and Mr. Carleton is anxious to be off.” She didn’t wait for my reply but flounced from the room.
“Lord, that was close!” I muttered, grinning like a fool. I released my stranglehold on my quilt and slid my legs over the side of the bed just as Abigail reappeared at my door.
I grabbed for the quilt again but too late as with a wink and a flutter of long eyelashes, she blew me a beguiling kiss and was gone again.
I quickly vacated the bed and slammed the door then dragged a chair over and wedged it under the knob. “There, see if ye surprise me agin,” I said to no one, irritated at the heat that still flooded my cheeks. Then I retrieved the dress and angrily stepped into it. “Who does she think she is?” But I couldn’t erase the memory of her fingers trailing over my skin, her lips pressed to mine.
Slipping the last button into place, I strode over to the window, sliding on the polished plank flooring. The ladybird, it seemed, had made no progress in its quest for freedom. The window was open and the green scent of summer filled me. The wee beetle continued to bash its head at the glass, then slide back down, oblivious to the opening just a few inches below. I glanced down into the yard. Several horses were tethered near the door, long tails continually swishing, pointed ears twitching. With a pang of longing, I thought of Caulley. Who was taking care of my dear friend now?
I looked farther up the drive and noticed our carriage had been brought around and the horses hitched. I didn’t think it would do to annoy my new employer by keeping him waiting.
I combed my fingers through my hair, felt the curls resist my tidying and stubbornly spring back. I gave up and bent to gather my shoes. Then I paused, my hand on the knob. Glancing over my shoulder to the window, I retraced my steps. With a little flick of my finger, I directed the confused ladybird to the opening and pushed her toward freedom, hoping she’d send me a little good luck. With a sigh I crossed the room.
Would that it was so easy, I thought wryly.
******
After a quick breakfast of ham, scrambled eggs, and buttery scones that reminded me of Mary, we were on the road.
Carleton again chose to ride up top with Rabbie. The day pushed by, with far too much time to think, and I truly did not want to think. We stopped briefly for a picnic lunch of biscuits, cheese and hard-boiled eggs that tasted divine. I didn’t realise how much I loved food until I had been deprived of it for so long.
I dozed fitfully for much of the afternoon, my head jolted and banged about against the window. It seemed that hours had passed, when the realisation that the carriage no longer moved filtered through my sluggish brain
and I started awake. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I peered out the window.
We were parked in front of an elegant, white, wood-sided house. It rose majestically for two storeys with four pillars supporting the high-pitched covered porch. Three large windows on the second floor and four on the lower peered from the front like gleaming, inquisitive eyes. A cobbled walkway curved to an ornate, carved front door.
The carriage door swung open and Rabbie and Mr. Carleton stood before me.
“Welcome to my home, Miss Meara.” Mr. Carleton helped me to solid ground and proudly swept his hand in the direction of the stately structure. Before I had a chance to respond, the front door burst open and a small, sturdy boy clattered down the steps.
“Papa, Papa!” Chestnut hair, identical to his father’s, curled riotously about plump cheeks that glowed. A smattering of freckles vied with smudges of dirt to speckle his nose. His crystal clear eyes sparkled with eagerness.
Rabbie helped me from the carriage as the young lad dived into his father’s arms and hugged him with unabashed excitement.
“Where did my Johnny go?” He held the boy at arms’ length and looked him over in mock bewilderment. “You can’t be my little Johnny. My Johnny is a foot shorter than you.” Johnny beamed happily as his father pretended to look for Johnny over the lad’s own shoulder.
“Papa, you’re silly! I’m right here. I just growed, that’s all!”
“Well, my boy, you certainly did!” Mr. Carleton scooped up his son, gave him a squeeze then turned to us. “Johnny, there’s someone I’d like you to meet, son.” He gestured to me. “This is your new governess, Miss Meara.”
“Miss Meara, this is my son, Johnny.” He smiled proudly and tickled the boy under his arms. “He’s four years old.”
Johnny stopped giggling and surveyed me with blatant curiosity that only a child can produce without being rude. Then his eyes found mine and he stared intently at me, as though trying to see past my eyes and directly into my head. I held my hand out to him and for a moment he stared at that as well.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Johnny.”
Apparently passing inspection, he thrust his sticky hand into mine and smiled broadly. “I am four and a half and that means I’m almost five,” he corrected his father, holding five grubby fingers up at me. “See? A whole hand! And I might like you but Nessie won’t ‘cause she don’t like nobody.”
“Johnny, that’s very rude, young man!” His father began to scold but was interrupted by the front door opening again. A slender girl of about eight or nine walked sedately down the steps. Light blonde hair, the colour of moonbeams, fell in waves that danced about her small shoulders and seemed to challenge her careful walk. She had the same liquid brown eyes as her father, as well as his innate grace. The contrast between her fair hair and dark eyes was startling. She was quite the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen.
“Hello, Papa.” Her voice was cool and held the same elegant quality as her father’s.
Carleton set Johnny on his feet and held his arms out to his daughter. “Come, my darling. I’ve missed you so, Nessie.”
The girl ignored her father and marched over to me. I noted the hurt that dulled Carleton’s eyes as his hands slowly dropped to his sides and he watched his daughter nervously. The air crackled with tension as she halted in front of me. Tapping her toe haughtily, she put her hands on her hips and eyed me critically, her head tipped to one side.
“Vanessa, this is Miss Meara. She’ll be your new governess. Please say hello, darling.” Was that a tremor of unease I detected in his voice? But why?
As I held my hand out to her, I understood immediately.
Vanessa glared at my hand, her lips pinched angrily. She crossed her arms defiantly. “I am ten years old and I don’t need a governess!”
I darted a look at John, then cleared my throat. “Ah lassie, mebbe ye dinna need a governess, but perhaps we could be friends.” I gave the charming lass my warmest smile.
Her eyes narrowed and she stamped her foot. Disgust laced the prim voice. “I don’t need any friends. You talk badly and your dress is hideous and dirty.”
She leaned forward and stuck out her tongue. “And I hate you!”
“Vanessa!”
She jumped at her father’s angry voice and her face crumpled. Then she spun around and with shoulders hunched to her ears, she scrambled back up the walk and through the door then slammed it behind her.
Feeling helpless, I glanced at Rabbie. He smiled sympathetically at me and shrugged his shoulders.
Wee Johnny turned to me with a triumphant grin and stated proudly, “See I told you she wouldn’t like you! Nessie hates everybody!”
******
After that awkward welcome, Mr. Carleton apologised profusely and reassured that his daughter was just going through an awkward period. Then he escorted me to the front door as wee Johnny raced ahead of us.
“I’m afraid my children have had several governesses of late, Miss Meara. Vanessa, especially, does not trust easily. But please don’t worry, she’ll come around.” He paused and looked over his shoulder. “Rabbie, I’ll just see your sister in and then I’ll show you to the stables.” He pointed to a drive that led down the side of the house. “You’ll be bunking with Willem, my stable boy.”
“Aye, John, I’ll just take the horses back then.”
I looked over my shoulder at Rabbie, but he was already busily unhitching the horses from the dust-covered carriage.
We stepped into an inner foyer that led to another grand foyer with stairs that curved to the upper level. Johnny dashed ahead, “fell” to his knees and slid across the polished wood floor with practiced ease. His delightful squeals echoed in the high-ceiling room.
Mr. Carleton smiled indulgently at his son. “I see you’ve been practicing, son.” He looked expectantly around the foyer, then peered through the arched doorway of a lavishly appointed parlour to the left of the front door and then to the right into a library with three walls of bookcases. “Johnny, where’s your mother?”
Johnny retraced his steps then executed another perfect slide. “She’s still in bed, Papa.” He popped up, then backed up the hall, tongue firmly lodged in the corner of his mouth. “She’s got a ache in her head again. I think she has too much thoughts in there maybe.” I smiled to myself then glanced back at his father.
A dark, indefinable look veiled his eyes and his lips tightened as he watched his son. He glanced up the staircase that rose gracefully to the upper floor and I thought I saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head. When he turned back, his shoulders were slumped.
“Johnny, run along, son, and find Mrs. Plumpton, please.”
“All right, Papa.” He skidded across the floor and burst through a door at the end of the hall.
I was going to enjoy taking care of this lively lad very much, but it seemed his sister was going to be another matter entirely. And what is bothering Mr. Carleton? I wondered.
He turned back to me and the dark look had vanished, his eyes warm once more. “Apparently, my wife is indisposed at the moment. She is prone to headaches unfortunately but Mrs. Plumpton, my housekeeper, will be happy to show you to your room.” He scanned my trollop’s gown and he looked as though he smelled something bad. I felt heat spread up my cheeks. “I’ll see that she brings you a uniform as well.”
There was an explosion at the end of the hall as the door burst inward and banged against the dark panelled wall. Johnny dashed down the hall and once more slid on his knees, bringing a hearty smile to his father’s face. I couldn’t help but grin as well.
“That’ll be enough of that, Little Johnny! I just finished mending the knees of those breeches yesterday!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Plumpton,” Johnny giggled but sounded anything but sorry.
I peered at the woman who followed Johnny down the hall. Though she gently scolded the lad, there wasn’t the slightest trace of anger on her face. She was very befitting of her name; plump as on
e of Mary’s dumplings. She was not a tall woman, surely less than five feet. Her white hair was plaited and neatly coiled low on the back of her head. Lines radiated from the twinkling, hazel eyes as she smiled at us and I thought it was a face that was most comfortable smiling.
“Mr. Carleton, how was your trip, sir?” With surprising agility, she sidestepped Johnny as he sped by once more.
“It went well, thank you, Olga. Johnny tells me Grace is not feeling herself today?”
“That is correct, sir.” Mrs. Plumpton looked meaningfully at Carleton. “She’s taken some of her medication so I expect she’ll keep to her bed for the rest of the day.” Another look passed between Carleton and his housekeeper before she turned to me.
“And you must be Sarah.” She craned her neck and looked around behind me. “But where are the children, dear?”
Before I could reply, Carleton answered for me, “Oh, my apologies, Mrs. Plumpton. There’s been a slight change of plans. Sarah will not be coming after all and this is Meara McLeod. I’ve also hired her younger brother, Rabbie. He’ll be training the new horses and driving the carriage.” Mrs. Plumpton’s golden eyes sobered as she gave a pointed look to Mr. Carleton. “Young Willem’s run off, sir, so you’ll be needing a stable boy as well.” Then she quickly reached out and clasped both my hands in hers and squeezed warmly.
“That’s lovely then. Come with me, dear. I’ll show you to your room.”
Carleton nodded at me then slipped back out the door.
Mrs. Plumpton turned back to Johnny, who sat on the floor, inspecting a small tear in his knees, his grubby face intent. “Now then my young man, run along to the kitchen. I think Edie just took something delightful out of the oven.”
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