Master's Match

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “Oh yes. There is one for sale now only a mile away bordering on our old neighborhood, and I do believe Mr. Abercrombie plans to buy it for ’em—them.” Bernice delivered her the kind of soft smile that reminded Becca of her understanding mother. Becca would have to remember to speak with proper enunciation even when they were alone. “I do slip now and again, don’t I?”

  “You are doing very well. I am impressed by how much progress you have already made in such a short time.”

  “My most difficult challenge has been learning to sing. At least, that’s how Mrs. James makes me feel.”

  “She’s not known for a sweet temperament. However, you should learn much from her since she’s an expert vocalist,” Bernice assured her. “Many society people have taken lessons from her.”

  “I can see she’s an expert. I just wish she’d be more encouraging.” Becca stood and regarded herself in the mirror. “I look forward to wearing a dress that matches the hairstyle you fashioned for me.”

  “That time will be soon. And with the arrival of more dresses, you shall be changing clothing throughout the day so what you wear is suitable for each activity. In fact, we shall be spending most of our days together getting you dressed and undressed and dressed again.”

  “That sounds as though dressing consumes a great part of the day.”

  “That it does.”

  “I hate to impose on you to spend all your time dressing me.”

  “You never impose on a servant. That is something you must not forget. You must become accustomed to all of us waiting on you.”

  “I feel so lazy.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have blurted such a bold feeling, but with Bernice she felt she could be honest.

  “That feeling will pass. And you’ll soon become accustomed to heavier garments with some loss of movement,” Bernice said.

  “Loss of movement?”

  “Yes. Ladies’ dresses and intimate apparel are heavier and allow for less freedom. After all, menial work is not expected of them. Or of you.”

  Even though she hadn’t lifted a finger in the Abercrombie residence since she had accepted Nash’s proposal, she’d always helped Mother, so the idea that she would no longer cook, clean, or tend to others seemed strange. “I think I shall miss working.”

  Bernice laughed, her bountiful chest moving with each echo. “You won’t miss it long, no doubt. Now go on and greet your fiancé for the noon meal. He awaits.”

  ❧

  Since he had arrived home from his office a few moments before noon, Nash slipped into his bedchamber to freshen himself. The room, painted a pleasing shade of blue and decorated so anyone entering would know it unmistakably belonged to a man, served as his familiar retreat away from his cares and worries.

  Relaxing in posture, he splashed spice-scented water on his face and hands to wash away the grime from the street and ash particles ever present in the city air. A few strokes from his boar bristle brush with a carved ivory back, a cherished past birthday gift from his father, made his hair glisten. The process soothed away the cares of a harried morning at work and prepared him for light supplication to sustain him for the afternoon ahead. The ritual had become a fond one, even fonder now that Becca waited to partake of lunch with him.

  Whistling “Saint’s Delight” on his way down the hall, he slipped into his study to wait for Becca. A highlight of his day happened when she would emerge from the Gold Room and meet him so he could escort her to the dining room and they could partake of their meal together.

  Today the seamstress, Dawn, would bring the three dresses he ordered for Becca to the house so she could see how they fit. He mused upon who was more pleased by the prospect—Becca or himself. If only he could defer his business so he could witness her face light up when she looked in the mirror at the finest dresses of her life. He didn’t mind seeing her in the same tired frock day after day, but she’d no doubt feel more settled into her new role while wearing dresses that made an attempt to match her beauty. Not that any garment, even one fashioned from the finest silks and ermine, decorated with gems and pearls, and sewn with gold thread, could compare to her natural glow and the radiance of her spirit that enhanced her physical beauty.

  He contemplated how much she appreciated even the slightest favor he showed her. Never did she expect special consideration, acting as though she never left the home in which she had been born. In a way perhaps she hadn’t, since she returned to it each night. The discreet arrangement seemed to work. In hopes of quelling gossip, he had warned the servants and teachers against mentioning Becca’s presence and progress until they were ready for her to be introduced to the larger society. Since they valued their jobs, Nash felt certain they had honored his request.

  When she arrived at his residence each morning, a wide-eyed look still appeared on her face. The fact amused him in a most pleasant way. What a contrast this sweet young woman was to Hazel. To the manor born, Hazel never let go of her sense of entitlement and reminded others with each encounter, in ways both large and small, that she believed they owed her the world. He remained amazed by how Becca conveyed a sense of gratitude toward God for how He had led her to Nash—and Nash was convinced that’s what happened. Some less fortunate women might have taken the attitude of Becca’s father—that Nash should shower Becca with gifts so she could cash in and have a small fortune to show for her experience should the situation go awry. He felt certain Mr. Hanham didn’t see that Nash discerned his attitude.

  But Becca. She was such a gift. An image of her drifted into his mind, much as a placid wave might wash upon white sand on a moonlit night. The picture made him much happier than any beach adventure. He took his seat in the chair behind his desk and closed his eyes.

  So immersed in thought was Nash that he didn’t hear Becca’s soft footfalls as she walked down the hall toward his study. Not that she was easy to hear on the best of days since a thick runner carpeted the floor, but usually she didn’t catch him in an utter state of daydreaming.

  “Are you ready for lunch?” she asked.

  He jumped a bit. “Oh. Yes.” Looking at her, he saw she appeared different. He studied her to see if he could figure it out before asking her.

  “Nash, you’re staring.” She averted her eyes.

  “I beg your forgiveness. I—you look quite extraordinary today, even more extraordinary than usual. There’s something different about you.”

  “It’s my hair. Bernice styled it differently.” She touched her fingers to an outer curl and pivoted. “Does it please you?”

  His heart beat faster as he noticed her beauty. “Yes. Yes it does. Very much.” He moved toward her.

  “Do you think this will look nice with my new dresses?” she wondered. “Truth be told, I believe that’s why Bernice fixed it this way today.”

  “Bernice is a very smart woman. I do think the style will do the dresses justice.” He took her chin in his hand. “If I may be so bold, I was thinking about how no dress could do your beauty justice.”

  She looked at the rug and fluttered her eyelashes, but the motion seemed genuine instead of practiced affectation as he had seen many society ladies perform. “You flatter me.”

  “No, I don’t. It’s true.” He held back the urge to stroke her stunning mane of curls. Clearly Bernice had worked hard on Becca’s hair, and to disturb it would be a shame. He focused on her big, beautiful eyes, the refined shape of her nose, her full pink lips. She took in the slightest of breaths. Nash stared into her eyes and saw them grow wider. Though not a naive man, never before had he experienced the intense feelings of yearning that Becca’s mere presence stirred in his heart. “I can resist you no longer, my darling.” He drew her into his arms with more urgency than he intended, but she didn’t seem taken aback. Soon he became lost in her warmth and drew his mouth toward hers.

  “I don’t want you to resist,” she murmured.

  When their lips met, the sweetness of the moment far surpassed his fantasies. So this is what love felt li
ke! He wanted more. He drew her closer in an embrace and kissed her again, deeper this time. She did not refuse, but returned his passion.

  In touch with each other’s spirits as they were, they chose the same moment to break away, with ever so much gentleness, from one another. Though he suspected his kiss had been her first, when she looked into his face, her expression bore no shame but revealed only the most pure romantic love.

  “I love you, Becca Hanham.”

  “And I love you, Nash Abercrombie. I have loved you since that first night I met you. Not because you saved my life, but because you were ever so kind to me though I could do you no favor.”

  “Don’t you recall what Jesus said? ‘Then said he also to him that bade him, When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours; lest they also bid thee again, and a recompence be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind: And thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense thee: for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.’ ”

  “Yes, I remember that passage from the Gospel of Saint Luke, although never could I recite the verses with such eloquence as you possess.”

  “Father required me to commit the passage to memory, saying that our family must live by it. He was a great adherent of a concept that in recent years has been termed as the French language phrase noblesse oblige.”

  “Noblesse oblige?”

  “Yes. Those of high rank or birth are obligated to treat those who are not as blessed with great honor, respect, and consideration. So for me to buy lucifers from you that night was no sacrifice.”

  She took a moment to absorb what he told her. A lump formed in her throat. “I’m grateful your father taught you to be so thoughtful of others.”

  “As am I. And of course you know that compassion toward others is a part of our history here in Providence. Who better to demonstrate the concept than Roger Williams?”

  “Yes, the founder of Rhode Island Colony and our fair city of Providence.” Wishing to impress Nash, Becca reached back into her memory to recall long-ago history lessons learned at her mother’s knee. “He thought people should have freedom of conscience. But freedom also means responsibility.”

  “I see you have been taught well,” Nash observed. “Oh, and that reminds me. We must find some volunteer work for you to do. What are your interests?”

  She’d been so busy helping her mother and adding to her family’s lean income that unpaid work had never been a consideration. “I’d like to volunteer, but I don’t know where. There are so many people who need help.”

  “True. Too many people need help.” Regret colored his voice before he brightened with a suggestion. “You have a heart for children. Might I suggest that you put your domestic skills to use making blankets for orphans?”

  She brightened. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll do it.”

  “We’ll have you involved in my church soon as well. Come now, we must make our appearance in the dining room or Harrod is sure to investigate.”

  Eight

  Becca gasped with excitement when she saw the results of her new seamstress’s work. “Oh, Dawn, this dress is absolutely stunning!” She stood still in her bedchamber as Bernice fastened the last of eighteen silk-covered buttons on the back of her new floral-patterned dress using a long hook made for the purpose. For the first time she understood why society ladies needed personal maids. She never could have donned such an elaborate garment by herself.

  Recalling the costume Mrs. Gill wore during their interview, Becca considered in amazement her own attire even prettier. She lifted the skirt to examine the pattern and feel the texture of such elaborate fabric. “Are you sure this is a morning dress? It’s much too fine to wear around the house.”

  “Even the Abercrombie house, Miss Hanham?” Dawn’s sharp features softened at the compliment.

  “Maybe even the Abercrombie house,” Becca said, only half in jest.

  Bernice eyed a gown made of a green silk reminiscent of fresh mint sprigs. “I cannot wait to see you try on the evening frock.”

  “With your delicate figure and refined features, you’re sure to look like a princess,” Dawn agreed.

  “I believe I want to save the most luxurious for last. I’d prefer to try on the blue afternoon frock next.” She took in the loveliness of the colorful wardrobe. “I’m glad you already had such beautiful fabrics on hand so I wouldn’t have to wait.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dawn beamed.

  Bernice spent considerable moments undressing Becca down to her new undergarments and then replacing the morning frock with the blue outfit. As Bernice fastened more buttons, Becca could see she would be spending more time in her toilette than she had previously spent diapering the babes at home.

  As everyone predicted and Becca hoped, the afternoon dress looked just as good on her as the morning dress. She tried to imagine changing into a special garment for no other reason than the fact it was after lunch. Now that the dresses had arrived, such a ritual would be a reality of each day.

  Bernice picked up a pair of kid leather shoes with slight heels. “Please be seated, Miss Hanham, so that we might change your shoes.”

  Becca complied and gave over her feet to the maid. As Bernice removed the first kid leather shoe she already wore, Becca couldn’t help but think it was much too good for daytime. Yet the cobbler had insisted they had been fashioned for that purpose. “I don’t want to take these off.”

  Dawn and Bernice laughed as Bernice slipped heeled shoes onto Becca’s dainty feet. After they had been delivered the previous day, she’d tried them on several times to practice walking in them. They looked better than they felt.

  Her efforts to learn how to walk in dressy shoes were rewarded when she saw how well they complimented the elaborate evening dress Dawn had sewn for her. Noting the dress, she couldn’t help but be pleased. The color was striking, and the neckline accentuated her frame and complexion and complemented her figure while maintaining a perfect degree of modesty. She looked the seamstress’s way. “I love how you followed my instructions and wishes exactly.”

  “Thank you, Miss Hanham.” Dawn glanced at her lap and back to Becca for approval. “Since you seem pleased with my work, would you see your way clear to ordering the other three dresses Mr. Abercrombie mentioned at our last appointment? If so, I would be ever so pleased.”

  Becca didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I would. When shall we meet next?”

  “If I am not imposing on your busy schedule, I can stay as long as you please. I set aside all afternoon, and I brought enough patterns and fabric samples to keep us occupied the rest of the day.”

  Becca smiled. “I can think of few better ways to spend an afternoon.”

  ❧

  Later, as the dinner hour neared, Becca realized for the first time since she’d set foot in Nash’s home that she felt as though she belonged. Though clothes didn’t indicate one’s character, her new hairstyle and dress gave her a feeling of confidence, the likes of which she had never before felt.

  Preparing to greet Nash after his long day of work, Becca felt nervous somehow, though she didn’t know why. Of course he would love to see her in the dress. She only hoped the reality of her appearance now that she had transformed into a lady would live up to his fantasy.

  Soon Becca entered the study so Nash could escort her to dinner. He sighed when he saw her. She looked into his eyes, noting how he studied her with an awed expression. “I never thought it would be possible for me to say this, since you have always been lovely, but I’ve never seen you more beautiful. You flatter that dress.”

  She felt herself blush. “You mentioned you like the color blue, so when Dawn showed me the fabric this color she had on hand, I thought you might like to see me in it.”

  He smiled. “The other ladies will be envious of how good you look.”

  Other ladies. Nash meant to compliment her, but inst
ead his words produced an anxious queasiness, reminding her of how she felt the first time Nash suggested she would sing in front of his friends. If she could put off meeting his friends forever, she would. She knew the day she’d be introduced to them would arrive, but she’d kept her mind from it. She’d been enjoying the dream of being in Nash’s world, alone with him and his doting servants. Training, purchasing of dresses, horseback riding, and other ideas he had for her were for one purpose: to make sure she could survive in his world. A world filled with others certain to judge her.

  Waking up from her semidaydream state, she saw Nash staring at her, eyes widened with concern. She had to say something. “I—uh—I don’t want anyone to be envious.” The words she spoke were true. And truer still was her next utterance. “I just want to make you happy.”

  “You make me happy, my dear. Happier than I have ever been.”

  ❧

  Each night, unwilling to remain in clothes that would make her seem too regal for the humble circumstances of her birth, Becca put on her old dress and returned home. Though she’d worn similar dresses all her life, not until she had donned herself in luxurious clothes did she realize how scratchy the mean fabric felt against her skin, or the drab and worn condition of her attire. Bernice always looked sad when she helped Becca transform from lady to impoverished girl, but Becca held her head up and resolved to remember she had not always been so fortunate. She would never be ashamed of or forget from whence she came.

  Her efforts to fit in with her old surroundings didn’t keep her family and friends from noticing the difference in her manners and the way she carried herself. Fresh confidence radiated from her, and she knew it even as she embarked from Nash’s carriage. One night in particular, a night saturated with the false promise of early spring that encouraged all to be out and about, she felt more stares than usual aimed her way.

  “She always did ride a high horse,” she heard one of her old rivals whisper, thinking she wouldn’t overhear.