Glorious Angel - Glorious Angel 1

by Johanna Lindsey

  “West?” Angela broke in excitedly. “Is that where she went? Pa never told me.”

  “Yes, that’s where she went,” Jacob answered sadly. “Did you know that you are the exact image of your mother?”

  “Pa always said I had her eyes and hair,” Angela answered easily, relaxing now.

  “It’s much more than that, my dear. Your mother was the loveliest woman I ever knew. She had a grace about her, a fragility, and a most exquisite beauty. You are just like her.”

  “You’re funnin‘ me, Maitland. I ain’t graceful, and I sure ain’t fragile.”

  “You could be, with the proper training,” Jacob replied with a tender smile.

  “Trainin‘? Oh, you mean like schoolin’?” she asked. “I ain’t never had time for that. Pa needed me here to help work the farm.”

  “Yes. About this farm, Angela. Now that your father is—ah, no longer with us, I want—.”

  “Please, Maitland,” Angela cut in, frightened of what he was going to say. “I can work this farm by myself. I’ve helped Pa since before I can remember. I’m stronger than I look, really I am.”

  “What on earth can you be thinking of, child? I can’t let you stay on this farm by yourself,” Jacob exclaimed in surprise, shaking his head.

  “But I—”

  Jacob held up his hand to stop her. “I will not hear another word about it. And don’t look so miserable, my dear. I was going to tell you, before you interrupted me, that I want you to come and live at Golden Oaks.”

  A look of pure disbelief spread across Angela’s features. “Why?”

  Jacob Maitland laughed then. “Let’s just say I feel responsible for you. After all, I’ve known you all your life, Angela. I waited with William Sherrington while your mother was giving birth to you. And I want to help you.”

  “But what about your family? And you got so many servants livin‘ in your house now.”

  “Nonsense,” he replied. “The servants don’t live in the house, child. And my family will welcome you. Have no fear about that.”

  “If you ain’t the nicest man I ever did know!” Angela said, tears coming to her eyes again.

  “Then it’s settled, my dear. I’ll leave you here to pack your belongings, and I’ll send the carriage back for you in a couple of hours.”

  Chapter 8

  ANGELA was sure she had dreamed her meeting with Jacob Maitland. But two hours later, the shiny new black carriage came for her, and she knew it was true. She was going to Golden Oaks.

  The only thing she could think about on that short mile ride to her new home was that she would now be closer to Bradford Maitland. She had never outgrown her childhood infatuation. If anything, the seventeen-year-old Angela loved him more than she had at fourteen.

  Hannah had told her that Bradford was no longer in the army, but he was still up North running Maitland Enterprises in New York. Zachary was home, though, sent back from the war late in ‘62 with a leg injury. He had promptly married Crystal Lonsdale, and they were both living at Golden Oaks now.

  Angela recalled the first time she had ever seen Golden Oaks, ten years ago, when Jacob Maitland’s wife died. Her father had gone to pay his respects, and Angela tagged along. And then there were the many times when her father brought a share of his crop to the Maitlands’ storage house, and in the recent years, she always went with him. But she had never before been inside the huge mansion. And now she would work there!

  Angela didn’t feel belittled by being a servant. Working in that fine house would be much easier than working a farm. Being a Maitland servant, she would see Bradford often when he came home. And even though he could never return her love, she would be near him, and that was all that mattered.

  The carriage pulled up to the front of the house and Angela stared up at the eight huge Doric columns that lined the wide front gallery. But then her eyes were drawn to someone looking out of an upstairs window. The curtains were quickly drawn shut, making Angela feel uneasy. Who had been watching her arrival?

  “Well, Angela, welcome to Golden Oaks,” Jacob Maitland said as he came out to greet her.

  “Thank you, sir,” Angela returned with a shy smile, but then her violet eyes brightened and she relaxed when Hannah appeared on the gallery behind Jacob.

  “Missy Angela, I is sure glad you agreed to come here to live!” Hannah cried with her usual exuberance. “I was right sorry to hear ‘bout your papa, but I’s mighty relieved to know you gonna be taken care of.”

  “ Maitland has been very kind.”

  “Angela, please, I want you to call me Jacob. After all, we’re old friends.”

  “All right, sir—I mean, Jacob.”

  “That’s much better.” Jacob smiled warmly. “Hannah will show you to your room. And Hannah, don’t you go tiring her out with your chattering. Angela has had a trying morning, and I want her to rest for the rest of the afternoon.” He turned back to Angela. “We’ve already had lunch, my dear, but Hannah will have something sent to your room. And someone will call you when it’s time for dinner. My son Zachary has developed the southern habit of napping after lunch, as his wife does, because of the heat. But you will meet them this evening.”

  “Come along, Missy,” Hannah said as she held the door open. “I gots you a room on the cool side of the house all fixed up. It overlooks the river, and gets a real nice breeze when there’s one to be had.”

  Angela followed Hannah into the entrance hall, hurrying to keep up as she headed for the large curving staircase at the end of the hall. Angela didn’t have time to stop and look at the beautiful pictures that covered the white walls, or to have more than a glimpse through the open doors they passed.

  At the top of the stairs was a long hallway that covered the length of the house, and on each end was a wide-open window, letting in daylight and what little breeze there was. There were eight doors off the hallway, four on each side. Hannah turned left at the top of the stairs and stood waiting in front of the last door at the back of the house.

  Angela hurried on, glancing at the family portraits lining the hall. She stopped short when a pair of golden-brown eyes stared down at her from the wall. The picture held a remarkable likeness, the artist catching the proud, uplifted chin, the high cheekbones and straight, narrow nose, the firm, smiling lips, and the high forehead and thick, slightly curving black eyebrows mat matched his wavy hair. It was an excellent portrait of Bradford Maitland.

  “That’s a real nice picture of Jacob. Always thought it should of gone in the study,” Hannah said as she approached the portrait.

  “But I thought it was Bradford.”

  “No, child, that’s Jacob when he was younger. Bradford’s picture’s down the hall. If you puts them together, it looks like someone done painted two pictures of the same man—‘cept for the eyes. Bradford got’s a little more fire in his eyes, ’cause he didn’t like havin‘ his picture done, and it shows. He wanted his picture far away from his room, which is on this side of the house.”

  “This side?”

  “Yessum,” Hannah chuckled gleefully. “Thought you might like havin‘ the room across from his—that is, if that boy ever decides to come home.”

  The fact that Angela was going to live inside the house, instead of with the other servants, struck her. She didn’t understand it. Perhaps Jacob Maitland was just being very considerate, because she would be the only white servant.

  Angela was shocked by the room that was going to be hers. This one room was bigger than the house she had lived in all her life. Painted in off-shades of lavender and rich, dark shades of purple and blue, it even smelled of lavender. She had never seen anything so richly beautiful. And this room was to be hers!

  The floor was polished to such a high gloss that it actually reflected the fine, expensive furniture. The massive bed had four tall posts and a frilly canopy overhead, with a lavender and blue taffeta spread covering it. The drapes were a dark blue velvet, and were presently closed to keep out the afternoon h
eat. There was a comfortable chair in a corner, and a long sofa, tables, a dresser, and a tall, framed mirror. How ever could she get used to living in all this?

  “Are you sure I’m supposed to have this room?” Angela whispered, disbelief apparent on her lovely face.

  Hannah laughed. “ Jacob said I could choose any one of the empty rooms for you, and I chose this one. They’s all about the same anyway. I know this ain’t what you use to, Missy, but you’s here now, and you just gonna have to gets use to it. There’s nothin‘ to worry yourself about no more, and I sure is happy about that. Now you rest, like the master said.” And Hannah left her there.

  Rest? In the middle of the afternoon? How could she?

  A sudden breeze stirred the heavy drapes, and Angela went to the window and moved the material aside. The river was within easy walking distance, and she imagined what it would be like to just sit here and watch the stately steamboats pass. A lovely garden was in the back of the house, and the fragrance of jasmine and magnolias drifted up to her.

  There were beautiful rolling lawns on this side of the house and in the back, leading down to the river, lawns shaded by large oaks and bushy willows. The servants’ quarters and the stable were to the right of the house in a well-shaded forest of cedars. It was a picture of breathtaking beauty.

  There was a knock and a light-skinned Negro girl about the same age as Angela entered with a tray of food, which she set down on a table without saying a word. Angela smiled meekly at her as she left. She didn’t know how she was supposed to act with the other servants, but she wanted to make friends. She hoped they wouldn’t resent her being here.

  Chapter 9

  ANGELA spent the afternoon pacing restlessly about the large bedroom. She had tried to lie down on the big bed and rest but that was impossible for a girl who had never known idle time. With nothing to do, the minutes dragged by.

  Why couldn’t they have given her something to do? She wondered now just what her duties would be, for Mr. Maitland had failed to tell her. Would she be serving just one person? She hoped there would be enough work to keep her busy. Most of all, she didn’t want Jacob Maitland to regret bringing her here.

  This wasting of time, Angela thought, is ridiculous. There must be something she could do.

  She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The silence was eerie for a house supposedly full of family and servants. She walked a little ways, then smiled up at the portrait of Jacob Maitland. Curiosity drove her down the long hallway until she came to Bradford’s portrait. She gasped when she came face to face with it. This was not the Bradford Maitland she carried in her memories. This Bradford, with his darkly tanned face, his unruly black hair, and those angry eyes, made Angela think of a brigand pirate, or even a wild Indian, who could kill without mercy. This Bradford was a dangerous man.

  Angela shivered. This was a Bradford she had never seen. Or had she? Did Bradford look like this the night he rescued her from Bobo? She shook her head. She didn’t know.

  Angela turned with a shudder and made her way downstairs.

  The dining room was the first room she came to. It was very impressive, with a long table that would seat ten, and high-backed chairs and cushioned seats. There were two doors off the dining room. One was open and showed a huge empty room that ran nearly the length of the house. Angela opened the other door and found herself in a redbrick kitchen, a recent extension of the house. A woman of extremely large proportions was rolling a thin dough on a large table. A young girl was beside her peeling peaches, with a small boy at her elbow, asking if he could have some.

  “You must be the little girl Hannah told me about,” the large woman grinned when she noticed Angela. “What can I do for you, Missy?”

  “Is there a rag I can use?” Angela asked.

  The woman looked at her curiously, then pointed a flour-covered finger to another door. “There’s lots of rags in that closet—from Miss Crystal’s old dresses.”

  “Thank you,” Angela replied shyly and opened the closet.

  The little room was a storage area for the household cleaning items. There was a box of rags on the floor, but Angela was appalled by the scraps of material she found in it. Silks, velvets, taffeta, and other fine fabrics filled the box. How could such expensive materials find their way to a rag box? Taking a square of white cotton, she went to the dining room. It proved to be dust free, so Angela went to the room next to it. This was the morning room, she would learn later. It wasn’t large, and held just enough furniture to accommodate the family. The walls, draperies, and furniture were all in shades of white and soft blues.

  The floor was spotless, as were the tables, but Angela found dust on a large cabinet that held hundreds of little figurines, and she started to work on that. She was enchanted by the glassy little figures, and handled them with tender care as she moved them about. After a few minutes, she started humming, content she had found something to do.

  “You see, Robby, I told you I heard someone in here.”

  Angela spun around quickly and met the contemptuous glare of Crystal Maitland. Her brother Robert was looking at Angela with a mixture of surprise and pleasure, his dark brown eyes scrutinizing her. Angela knew Crystal only from Hannah’s descriptions, but she had seen Robert on occasion in the city. He was a lean man, about twenty-five, of medium height, with light blond hair like his sister, and strong, aristocratic features. Crystal’s brother was also Zachary Maitland’s closest friend, and he spent as much time at Golden Oaks as he did at his own plantation.

  “Well, at least she’s makin‘ herself useful,” Crystal continued, as if Angela weren’t in the room.

  “Oh, I’m sure your esteemed father-in-law has something much more useful in mind for the little orphan,” Robert said dryly.

  “Now, Robby, I told you I didn’t want to hear that kind of talk. Father Maitland wouldn’t dare bring her here to be his mistress,” Crystal replied tartly.

  “Wouldn’t he?” Robert asked with a raised brow. “Look at her. You can’t deny she’s pretty, and Lord knows this house doesn’t need any more servants. Maybe the old man has become foolish enough to think we wouldn’t guess his real reason for bringin‘ the girl here.”

  “Oh, stop it!” Crystal demanded. “If I were inclined to believe you, I’d throw her out on her ear. But I don’t believe your silly notion. And I’ll make sure she has plenty to do and earns her keep. Besides, it’ll be right nice havin‘ a white servant girl in the house, as long as she’s learned to be civil. She used to be quite wild, you know.”

  “She looks pretty tame to me,” Robert returned, a grin coming to his lips as he boldly eyed Angela.

  Angela’s cheeks flamed. Didn’t they care that she was standing right there?

  “Your name’s Angela, isn’t it, girl?” Crystal questioned, her annoyance with her brother now directed at Angela.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Angela, go and fetch me a glass of lemonade and bring it to the drawin‘ room. And be quick about it.”

  Angela slipped passed them without a word and hurried to the kitchen, the color still high on her face. Hannah was there and she smiled a warm greeting when Angela came into the room.

  “Tilda says you was here earlier, but you ain’t been introduced proper like,” Hannah said carefully. “This here’s Tilda, the best cook there is hereabouts.”

  “I’m mighty pleased to meet you, Tilda,” Angela said sincerely.

  “So’s I, Missy. It sure is gonna be nice havin‘ you here with us.”

  Angela wanted to stay and chat, but she was afraid to keep Crystal Maitland waiting. “Can I have a glass of lemonade?” she asked quickly.

  “You can have anything you wants, Missy,” Tilda answered jovially. “There’s a pitcher right there on the counter. Let me just wipe my hands here and I’ll gets you a glass.”

  Tilda moved to the counter and poured a large glass of the cold lemonade, making Angela thirsty. She took the glass, said her thanks, and hurrie
d out of the room. She went straight to the front room on the right of the hall, the only other room with an open door, and found Crystal and Robert relaxed on a large green and white sofa.

  Crystal took the glass of lemonade and tasted it, then made a face. “There ain’t enough sugar in this, girl! Take it back and make sure it’s sweet enough before you return.”

  Angela took the glass and left the room, but she stopped just outside the door when she heard Robert Lonsdale burst into laughter.

  “Since when did you get a sweet tooth?” Robert asked, chuckling.

  “I haven’t. But I told you I’d make her earn her keep,” Crystal answered, then giggled. “My, it’s gonna be fun havin‘ that girl here after all.”

  “Yes. I think I might extend my visit,” Robert said thoughtfully, then added, “To watch the fun, of course. I never realized you had such a cruel streak in you, sister. If the old man knew what—”

  “Oh, hush up, Robert!” Crystal snapped, then smiled wickedly. “Father Maitland ain’t gonna know.”

  Angela was close to tears as she hurried back to the kitchen. To be purposely cruel, just for sport!

  “Can you make this a little sweeter?” she asked, trying not to show how upset she was.

  “Tilda puts lots of sugar in her lemonade,” Hannah answered, surprised. “If you wants more sugar, you’s gonna get fat, Missy.”

  “Oh, it’s not for me,” Angela said quickly. “The lemonade is for Miss Crystal.”

  “Why you fetchin‘ for her?” Hannah asked, her brow creased.

  “She told me to.”

  “Then she tell you it ain’t sweet enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lord, what’s the gal think she’s doin‘?” Hannah exclaimed. “You wait here, Missy. Don’t you do nothin’ ‘cept watch Tilda make her peach pie. I’ll take Miss Crystal her lemonade. You wait about ten minutes, and then come to the master’s study. He’ll want to talk with you.”

  Ten minutes later, Hannah opened the door to the study and Angela walked in apprehensively. The room was large, and extended to the rear of the house, with the red-yellow rays of the setting sun streaming in the back windows. One wall was covered from floor to ceiling with books, another held a large gun case. There were stuffed animal heads mounted on wooden plaques, and pictures of wild horses and open plains on the walls. The floor-length draperies were dark brown, and the furniture was covered in black leather. This was definitely a man’s study.