Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  Goodhew tugged on his coat sleeve. “Miss Emily will be so busy attending the children, she won’t notice an extra plate. Mark my word, as long as no one says a thing, she’ll be surprised.”

  Cook picked up her carving knife again. “Be that as it may, the real surprise will be on that young man. If he sets sail again without being pledged to marry, I’ll polish every last piece of silver in this house myself.”

  Trudy and the other maid, Lee, exchanged looks. “Who do you think—”

  Brigit took the milk and gladly escaped to the dining room. She didn’t want to overhear the gossip. Then again, she did. In an odd way, everyone on the Newcomb estate was like a family. Oh, to be sure, she knew it wasn’t anything close to the truth—but the kindhearted close-knit group of servants had made her feel welcome at once. Aye, and Miss Emily never once said a harsh word. More telling still—Miss Emily herself usually minded the children, but if she was busy, she directed Brigit to look after the lasses. The Lord’s way of providing this position for her couldn’t be clearer. A few tales wouldn’t be harmful, but Brigit didn’t want to risk stepping over the line and jeopardizing her job.

  “Dinner is served,” Brigit overheard Goodhew say. She quickly finished pouring a glass of milk, then scooted to the side and kept her back to the wall. She’d learned the Newcomb tribe didn’t waste time reaching the table. At eleven, Titus had the gangly legs of a pony. He galloped in ahead of six-year-old Phillip. Both had their mother’s bright red hair. The five-year-old twins bumped into each other as they spilled through the doorway. June shrieked, and Julie giggled. They scrambled into their seats while Anna Kathleen and Lily tried to make more ladylike appearances. At thirteen and ten, they’d both just been warned to act less like hooligans, or their father threatened to cut off their lovely dark brown curls so they’d look like boys. Timothy came in, somber as a priest. At fourteen, he seemed far older than his years. Miss Emily smoothly swiped the book he carried and set it on the buffet before Goodhew seated her. Mr. John came in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then took his own seat.

  “I’m so glad you made it to supper tonight,” Miss Emily said, smiling at her husband.

  “Are you glad I made it to supper, too?” a deep voice asked from the doorway.

  Miss Emily let out a cry of delight, popped up, and dashed over to the tall young man. His auburn curls picked up the lamplight and looked like polished copper. Laughter shone in his bright blue eyes. He lifted Emily and swung her around, then set her down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “That makes it official. I’m home.”

  As he dragged another chair over to the table, Duncan started teasing the children. “I have things in my duffel bag, but only for kids who eat their vegetables.”

  Trudy brought in the carrots, Cook delivered the roast, and the other two maids followed in their wake with a basket of hot rolls and braised potatoes. Brigit filled the rest of the children’s glasses and turned to leave, but the stranger halted her motion by resting his large, rough hand on her wrist. Startlingly blue eyes twinkled at her.

  Duncan wore the smile of a rascal. “Don’t I get any milk?”

  Is he teasing me? She pasted on an uncertain smile. “If you’re wanting some, sir.”

  “Aye. Some say ’tis a drink for the young, but it suits me just fine.”

  As she reached for his glass, Brigit wondered why he drank milk, of all things. It must not be an unusual thing after all, because when Fiona had set Duncan O’Brien’s place at the table, she’d provided him with a glass as well as a coffee cup.

  “Brigit,” Miss Emily said merrily, “that’s my little brother, Duncan, back from a voyage. He’s a bit of a scamp and a tease at times, but he truly does like milk.”

  Duncan’s brows lifted. “Little brother? Emily, you may be older, but you’re the minnow in the family net.”

  While everyone at the table chattered, Brigit poured milk for the handsome sea captain and scurried back into the kitchen.

  Trudy stood in the middle of the kitchen with her hands theatrically clasped over her heart. “Oh, just the sight of him makes me heart flutter. That man can sweep me off me feet any day.”

  Unaccustomed to the familiarity the staff displayed toward the family, Brigit busied herself with washing some pots and pans. Lee grabbed a dish towel and started drying. Cook came over and slipped another pan into the sink and let out a sigh. “You lasses keep an eye on Trudy. She wouldn’t know proper conduct if she tripped on it, and she’s liable to make a ninny of herself over Duncan.”

  “She wouldn’t be the first woman ever to do that,” Lee whispered.

  “No, she wouldn’t, but the others have stood a faint chance of actually qualifying as wife material. They all hailed from good families—not from the servants’ quarters.”

  Brigit didn’t marvel that women were attracted to Duncan’s fine looks and rakish smile. Aye, and he’d be a good provider, too. He’d be a fine fellow for a lass to contemplate marrying, but any man who captained a vessel wouldn’t be the type to sit back and let others do his matchmaking.

  Miss Emily qualified as a force with which to be reckoned, and she had her mind set to play Cupid. If Duncan were half as adamant to remain single, things would be downright entertaining around the Newcomb estate.

  Trudy primped in front of the tiny mirror over the washstand. “I mightn’t be a ravishing beauty, but plenty a man’s told me I’m fair pretty. Me mum always said, ‘All’s fair in love and war.’”

  Lee snorted. “You’d best count on war, not love, Trudy.”

  Cook propped her hands on her ample hips and scowled. “You’ll not be dallying with Duncan, do you hear me? It’s not proper, and this is a proper home. Miss Emily’s determined to marry her brother off to a nice young lady, and he deserves more than a servant who can’t read her own name.”

  Brigit nodded her agreement. God was no respecter of persons, but man surely was. Common sense dictated a man of Duncan O’Brien’s station wed a woman whose abilities allowed her to be his helpmeet. Servants were servants, even in America. Brigit Murphy expected no prince to sweep her anywhere. She grabbed the broom and set to work. The only thing getting swept around her was the floor.

  Chapter 2

  I’ll likely be here for three weeks, if you can stand me,” Duncan answered his sister’s query. “I need to see about several of the details on the ship.”

  “Which ship?” June asked.

  “The ship he’s building with Old Kemper,” Titus scoffed. “Everyone knows the ship that’s most important to a man is the one he calls his own.”

  Duncan shook his head. “Nae, lad. The most important ship to a man is the one he’s captaining at any given moment. He’s responsible for all souls on board, whether or not the papers say the vessel belongs to him.”

  John stared at Timothy, Titus, and Phillip. “You boys heed your uncle Duncan’s words. That sense of responsibility and duty is why he’s the youngest captain in my fleet.”

  “Dad, I want to go on a voyage,” Timothy declared. “It’s well past time.”

  “Me, too,” Titus chimed in. “Uncle Duncan was going to sea by the time he was eleven.”

  Duncan gave the boys a long, hard look. “‘Twas a different time and different circumstances.” He didn’t enlarge on the particulars. The family took care not to make references to the period surrounding Timothy’s birth. Duncan had been a wee lad, but he’d had to grow up fast. With Emily working all hours to provide for them, he’d tried to help his dying sister, Anna, with her baby son until John rescued them all.

  A faint red crept from Timothy’s neck up to his hairline. Though his nephew never said a word about it, Duncan knew he was sensitive about the fact that his mother’s marriage to John’s brother, Edward, had been a sham and that his own birth had eventually cost his mother her life.

  Duncan cleared his throat and winked. “I’ve been talking to your father.” He glanced at John. John was really Timothy’s uncle, but for the sake
of ease and love, he and Emily called themselves his parents. “I’ve tried to convince him to let the both of you go out with me on a voyage.”

  “Hurrah!” Tim and Titus both straightened up.

  “Hold on for a moment,” Emily cut in.

  Duncan caught on that John hadn’t spoken with Emily yet. “Oops. It seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag too soon. Now, our Em, surely you can see for yourself that these fine sons of yours are growing—”

  “What I can see is that my brother and my husband are trying to pull the wool over my eyes.” She gave him a stern look. “Not another word out of you, Duncan O’Brien, if you value your life.”

  “Em—”

  “I said, not another word!”

  He couldn’t hide his grin as he gave a dramatic sigh, then muttered, “I was just going to ask for the salt.”

  John took up the cudgels. “How are you boys doing with your lessons?”

  “I’m a full year ahead in my studies,” Timothy declared. “And I’ve mastered every knot you and Duncan taught me.”

  “Me, too!” Titus wasn’t about to be left out.

  Duncan hid a smile behind the rim of his cup. Titus made up for his lack of size with an abundance of spunk. Emily would have a conniption if she knew he’d let both of the boys climb up the mast of the Cormorant the last time he was in dock; but his nephews had salt water flowing in their veins, and it did them good to use their muscles every bit as much as they used their brains.

  “So you have me slated to go to the Boott Mills in Massachusetts this next trip?” Duncan gave John a conspiratorial look.

  “Aye, that I do. Aunt Mildred lives up there.”

  “I’d like to visit her,” Anna Kathleen declared.

  Emily set her knife and fork on her plate. Her eyes glittered dangerously. “I’ll not be badgered into any decision. Anna Kathleen, you’re too young to travel alone; and, no, Lily, you going along would not make it any better. Tim and Titus, stop elbowing one another. You’ll be black-and-blue by the time supper’s over. I’ve a good three weeks to watch your behavior, and I’ll take every last day of them before I make up my mind whether or not to let you go. Don’t any of you dare try to bully me into anything. I’ll not stand for it.”

  After supper was over, Emily dismissed the children from the table. Duncan and John remained behind with her to enjoy a cup of after-dinner coffee. Emily’s eyes took on an appraising light, and Duncan felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

  “So you’ll be twenty-one in a few months.”

  “Aye, Em. We all know that.”

  “Yes, well, I’m assessing facts, as I said. I’m thinkin’ it’s well past time for you to find a pretty little wi—”

  “Cast that thought aside!” Duncan’s coffee cup thumped down on the table. “I’ve many a year left of bachelorhood.”

  “You’d do well with a woman to settle you.”

  “The only thing unsettling me is this crazy notion of yours. Em, don’t try to play Cupid for me. When I’m good and ready, I’ll find my own wife—and not a day before.”

  “There’s no harm in my making introductions.” Emily took a sip and gave him a pointed look over the brim of her cup. “You’ll never find a sweetheart when you spend all your time at the docks or at sea, so I’m going to help out a bit.”

  Duncan rose and shook his head. “John, talk some sense into her.”

  To Duncan’s dismay, John reached over and held his wife’s hand. “Emily’s always carried a full cargo of common sense.”

  “You’d best check the manifest and take inventory.” Duncan tapped his head as he went out the door. “She’s got a couple of empty crates in the upper cabin.”

  Brigit sat in the balcony of the church and kept her attention on the preacher. The yawn she hid behind her hand didn’t reflect on his message—the blame ought to land directly on Trudy’s shoulders. She’d been unable to sleep last night, so she’d come into Brigit’s attic bedroom and mooned over the dashing young sea captain.

  Brigit had spent more than half the night trying to talk some reason into her flighty friend. Her admonishments went in one ear and out the other. Trudy showed up for church this morning with an elaborate hairstyle she vowed would earn her Duncan’s attention. Instead, Duncan sat with his family down below in the sanctuary, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d been the inspiration for such a creation. Then again, Trudy didn’t suffer from his inattention. She’d fallen asleep.

  The Newcomb household ran with flawless precision, thanks to Goodhew’s discipline. Five minutes after the benediction, the servants took a carriage back to the mansion so they could put out changes of clothing for the children and have a meal ready to set on the table. Because she’d been assigned to travel with the children today, Brigit didn’t go along with the rest of the staff.

  She stood to the side of the children’s carriage and minded June and Julie while Anna Kathleen and Lily took their places across from Titus and Phillip. Normally one of the maids and the younger children took one carriage while Mr. John and Miss Emily took Timothy and Anna Kathleen with them in the other. Today they’d been supplanted by Duncan—which might have been tolerable—but now Mr. John gallantly assisted a young woman into the carriage who settled into the space Timothy or Anna might have occupied. The young woman graced Mr. John with a thankful nod, then turned a dazzling smile on Duncan and patted the seat next to her.

  Brigit ignored Timothy and Anna’s mutinous expressions and let go of Julie’s hand so the groom could lift the child into the wagon. June didn’t wait—she scrambled up unassisted. A tangle of too many arms and legs filled the carriage, and Brigit had yet to take a seat. Just as she daintily lifted her hem, a deep voice from behind her said, “Hold now. This cannot be.”

  “Unca Duncan, ride with us!” Phillip’s face lit up.

  Duncan chortled. “This vessel appears to have plenty of bulk, but no ballast. I’m going to have to trim the load a bit. Phillip, dive over to me. Lily, be a good girl and come here. You can each ride with us in the other carriage.”

  “This isn’t fair,” Anna Kathleen protested.

  Duncan gave Phillip and Lily a gentle push toward the other conveyance, then rested his forearms on the edge of the carriage. “No, ’tisn’t. Many’s the time you’ll do what’s required of you rather than what you want. Fair is nothing more than a child’s justice or a weather prediction.”

  Brigit found his words quite true, and he spoke them with both certainty and a tinge of humor. She waited for him to move to the side. As he did, he took her hand and helped her into the carriage with all of the care and polish he would employ with a high-society lass. Aye, he was a gentleman through and through.

  Duncan strode back and took a seat beside Phillip. He gave brief consideration to holding his nephew on his lap since Miss Prudence Carston’s extravagant hoops took up an inordinate amount of space. Miss Carston pasted on a smile and batted her lashes, but Duncan could tell she found no delight at a lad sitting between them. Manners forced her to feign amusement, but the young woman’s lack of sincerity registered as plainly as a loudly luffing sail.

  He’d told Emily not to try her hand at matchmaking, and this opening salvo had best also be the final one.

  Phillip’s nose twitched. “You smell like flowers.”

  Miss Carston preened. It might well take her half of eternity if she fluffed all the ruffles on her dress. “Roses. I always wear roses. I think they go well with my favorite color.”

  “I like pink, too,” Lily said in an awestruck tone.

  “Aren’t you fortunate you inherited your papa’s dark hair then? Redheaded women simply cannot wear pink.” Miss Carston turned to Duncan. She artfully brushed a few tendrils by the brim of her hat. The hat looked remarkably like a pink iced cake, and her lace-gloved hand resembled a fussy tatted doily. The whole while, she studied his hair. “I hope you won’t consider me too forward to say your jacket looks quite dashing with your auburn ha
ir.”

  Forward? Aye, that she was. And insipid as could be. Men didn’t take into account such trifling matters; furthermore, every last man in the congregation wore a black coat! This paragon of pink might well have Emily’s approval, but she left Duncan as cold as a mackerel at midnight. As soon as they finished luncheon, he’d concoct a polite reason to slip away—if he survived that long.

  John helped Emily into the carriage and took his place, then drove toward home. Emily tried to spark a conversation, and Miss Carston plunged in with notable enthusiasm. Duncan held his tongue. He didn’t want to be a surly beast, but the last thing he needed was for social nicety to be mistaken for interest. He refused to lead a woman into hoping for church bells when the only chime he heard was freedom’s ring.

  Once home, Duncan assisted Emily’s candidate out of the carriage. Little Phillip didn’t appreciate the finer points of conduct and let out a whoop as he jumped onto Duncan’s back. “Gimme a piggyback ride into the house, Unca Duncan!”

  “Sure, little man.” Duncan grinned at the young lady, who managed to quickly hide her look of shock. “We’re an informal bunch at home, Miss Carston.”

  “How lovely. Far be it from me to spoil such leisurely comfort with formality. Please do call me Prudence.”

  While Emily and Brigit shepherded the children upstairs to change before lunch, Duncan suffered the necessary indignity of entertaining Emily’s guest. She laced her hand into the crook of his arm and glided alongside him into the large parlor. Inspiration struck. He tilted his head toward the piano. “Do you play?”

  “Modestly.” The humble response might have come across more sincerely if she hadn’t let loose of him and hastened to the bench. After limbering her fingers with a few scales, she folded her hands in her lap. “Oh. It’s Sunday.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Papa allows only hymns on Sunday. He says on the Lord’s Day we ought only play and sing unto the Almighty.”

  “I can respect that.” Duncan wondered why that presented a problem. “Why don’t you play a hymn?”