Touch the Sun

by Wright, Cynthia

  For Meagan everything appeared uneasily normal. No one mentioned the altercation which had taken place on the lawn; indeed, everyone seemed unaware of it, though Smith commented quite casually that Flynn was "indisposed." Laughing, she whispered to Meagan, "He undoubtedly imbibed a bit too freely!"

  There was plenty to keep her busy all morning while Priscilla and the Binghams slept. It seemed that all would go on as before, but in the back of her mind she worried and was curious to know how the affair had ended. How had it been explained to Priscilla?

  When Meagan took a breakfast tray up to her friend's darkened bedchamber at noon, she seemed to be her normal self. Surprisingly, she displayed no irritation with Meagan for leaving her chores half done the night before. She prattled on excitedly about the party, relating conversations she had had with the celebrated guests and remarking more than once on the charm and good looks of Marcus Reems. Apparently, the episode in the garden had been explained to her complete satisfaction.

  Meagan was beginning to believe that all was well as she hurried back to the kitchen with her tray. There was little time to spare for her own lunch before she must prepare Priscilla's bath and help her dress.

  In the kitchen a fragrant pepper pot bubbled over the fire, and she felt her appetite return as she breathed in the aroma.

  "Oh, I am hungry! That smells delicious!" she exclaimed to Bramble. Setting down the silver tray, she reached for a bowl and spoon, but the cook put out a bony hand to stop her.

  "Before ye eat, I'm told the mistress would see ye. In the library, as I recall."

  Meagan's heart turned over. A vague nausea replaced the ravenous appetite of moments before, and it was with a feeling of dread that she made her way through the maze of paneled hallways to the library. Her hesitant knock brought an immediate response from within.

  "You may enter, South."

  Meagan took a deep breath and opened the door. At first, she was struck by the walls of books, but her attention was immediately diverted by the sight of Anne Bingham, who sat before a mahogany secretary. Sipping tea, she appeared erect and cool to the point of frostiness. In a wing chair facing hers sat a man Meagan had never seen before. His size was enormous and was emphasized by a startling claret velvet coat and bottle green silk vest. Jewels sparkled on his stubby hands and in his stock.

  "Well, well," he leered, his florid face ballooning in a smile that made Meagan cringe, "you have come at last."

  "Don't just stand there," Anne ordered crisply. "I want a word with you."

  Meagan had a feeling that she was walking to her death as she crossed the room. "Yes, madame?"

  "This is Major Henry Gardner, the famous import merchant. Major, this is Meagan South, Mistress Wade's abigail."

  Closer up, he was even more repulsive. An odor of stale perfume surrounded his chair and Meagan thought that the white wig he wore looked rather fusty.

  "How do you do?" she murmured, dropping a curtsy, then turned keenly questioning eyes on Mrs. Bingham.

  "I suppose you are wondering what this is about? Well, I shall come directly to the point. After last night, I do not see any future for you in this house. For everyone's sake it is imperative that you go, and I have taken the liberty of securing a new position for you with Major Gardner. He has purchased a truly grand home nearby and has desperate need of qualified servants."

  "Indeed I do!" he agreed heartily, his bloodshot eyes roaming over the length of Meagan's figure.

  She was aghast. "Mrs. Bingham, I am in the employ of Captain Hampshire! You have no right—"

  "I am merely relieving him of this unpleasant task, South. He has seen where his duty lies."

  "I don't believe you!"

  Anne's face was as cold and perfect as a piece of sculpture. "You have little choice. Have you forgotten your station in life?"

  Oh God, thought Meagan, she knows.

  Chapter 21

  Henry Gardner's new house was magnificent and he knew it. Even Meagan allowed herself a moment's admiration for the huge, leaded-glass fanlight which crowned the double front doors.

  Gardner had escorted her himself, waiting at Mansion House as she freshened up and gathered a few belongings. Anne had promised sweetly that she would have her remaining clothes and possessions sent over immediately, then hurried the two of them out the door with an audible sigh of relief. Meagan was not even allowed a moment to say good-bye to Priscilla or Smith; even as she closed the door to her room for the last time, one of the other serving-girls was on her way upstairs to prepare Miss Wade's bath.

  During the quarter-mile walk to the Gardner house, Meagan's mind was working hard and fast. What was she going to do? Of one thing she was certain: she would not stay with this lecherous man who ogled her in broad daylight as they walked up South Fourth Street. At one point, feeling his bloodshot eyes on her breasts, she had given him the most angry, indignant look she could muster.

  Gardner had appeared momentarily surprised before letting out a delighted guffaw. "I believe that we shall deal well together, missy!" he chuckled.

  "You delude yourself, Major Gardner."

  They came to his house then and he waved her inside with a flourish. A silent, stone-faced butler approached to take their wraps, disappearing almost immediately. Meagan was looking around the marble-tiled entry hall and into the first parlor when Gardner took her arm and began to lead her up the wide staircase.

  "What do you think you are doing?" she inquired coldly.

  Gardner was perspiring. "I thought I would—ah—show you your new chamber, and we can—uh—discuss your duties here."

  Meagan pulled back, grasping the mahogany rail with her free hand. "I am going to sleep upstairs?"

  "But of course, my little mouse. You are to be my head housekeeper! Since I am unmarried, you will be in charge of everything, and I want you to have a chamber befitting your position."

  His grip tightened painfully as he continued to mount the stairs. Meagan reluctantly let go of the rail and trailed along. When he opened the door to her new room, she stepped inside and gasped.

  The chamber was nearly the size of Anne Bingham's state bedroom and decorated so vulgarly that Meagan wondered briefly if it were a joke. A brightly patterned Kuba rug covered the yellow pine floor and on it stood a giant Hepplewhite bed. Its high posts were carved with serpents that peeked around the folds of the scarlet brocade drapes. Numerous chairs with heart-shaped backs were placed against the walls though their bright red-and-yellow striped seats appeared unused. There was an ornate armoire in one corner, flanked by an Adamesque looking glass and one of the new tambour desks.

  "How do you like it? It is very current."

  Meagan wrinkled her nose. "I think it is quite garish."

  The meaning of this word escaped him. "Ah, so you do like it!" Pleased, he hooked fat thumbs in his silk waistcoat and rocked back on his heels.

  Meagan spun around in exasperation. "No, I do not like it! I think it is vulgar!" Her violet eyes flickered around the room, resting on a door in the far wall. "What is that?" she demanded suspiciously, but did not wait for the stunned Henry Gardner to answer. Crossing the floor, she pulled the golden knob open and stamped on into a dressing room and the suite of rooms beyond. Seconds later, she reappeared, her cheeks bright with color.

  "Odious lecher! Think you that I would accede to this so docilely?" She spat upon his buckled shoes. "Think again!"

  By now, Gardner's utter astonishment at her behavior was wearing off and he felt a surge of rage.

  "Listen here, missy! Just who do you think you are? You are mine, understand? My servant, and you'll accede to anything I say!" He gripped her arm around the nearly healed knife wound and Meagan let out a gasp of pain. Gardner's lip curled in a sneer. "Not so high and mighty now, are ye? You'll do well to remember my power, missy, and be thankful that I've seen fit to give you such a fine room and high position in my house! If you cooperate and keep your place, you'll be paid handsomely. Now, this time, I will for
give you for your insolence, but if you ever show me such discourtesy again, you'll regret it."

  Meagan heard the heavy threat in his words, but she burned with an outrage that could not be cooled.

  "You swine," she hissed, eyes smoldering with contempt, "I would die before letting you use me."

  Gardner's face grew so red that Meagan wondered if he might explode. Still holding her arm in a punishing grip, he brought his other hand up to strike her full across the face.

  Meagan felt her neck snap backward and her ears began to ring from the force of the blow. At first, the entire side of her head seemed numb; then it began to throb and burn so that scalding tears stung her eyelids. Through a blur, she tried to focus on the huge form in front of her, raising her chin a notch and straightening her shoulders. "Such treatment serves only to reinforce my opinion of you."

  "You little baggage! You forget yourself! I'll see you humbled yet. You'll be begging to do my bidding and share my bed before I am through!" His eyes began to glow as he ranted on, but Meagan was too furious to feel any fear or apprehension.

  "Never!" she vowed through clenched teeth. "You will have to kill me and bed my corpse."

  His face swollen with hot blood, Gardner pulled her against his belly and bent to kiss the lips that so tempted him. Meagan angrily brought her knee up sharply to his stiffening groin, smiling with satisfaction when his hands dropped away and he fell backward against the doorjamb.

  Henry Gardner held himself, whimpering as he rocked to and fro. Meagan was not quite sure what she had done to cause him such agony, but she had once seen a stable boy quickly dispatch a quarrelsome young footman with just such a tactic.

  Intent on escape, she made for the dressing-room door, thinking to exit from the other end of the hall. However, Gardner's pain was apparently more intense than prolonged, for he caught her as she came dashing out the door of his adjoining suite.

  "Vixen, you shall rue this day," he choked, inflamed with a consuming rage.

  "I rue the day you were born, you ogre!"

  As he hauled her roughly back down the stairs, Gardner growled under his wheezing breath. Meagan resisted him, dragging her feet and clutching at the fancy mahogany balusters and an occasional piece of heavy furniture. They passed through the opulent parlors with their carved marble mantelpieces, crossed a deserted kitchen, and finally reached the pantry and its attached storeroom. A door broke the wall between the rooms and Gardner flung it open.

  Damp, musty air assailed Meagan's nostrils and, wrinkling her nose, she peered into bottomless, inky darkness.

  "Charming spot, isn't it?" he sneered, pleased with her instinctive reaction. "Certainly not vulgar, or what was it? Garish? Oh no, it's not garish in the least down there!" He laughed at his own wit, then thrust her onto the wet stone steps.

  "At the bottom, you'll find my dungeon. Every now and then I have cause to punish some of my seamen, for they can be as stubborn in resisting my authority as you have been. A day or two down there usually brings them around; they decide that even I am preferable to hungry rats!" His laughter sent a chill down her spine. "As it happens, there are a half-dozen being brought in tonight, so you are in for a double treat, missy! You'll get your fill of the damp, the darkness, the rats and the spiders down there and—after a few hours—the sailors will be along to amuse themselves with you." Slowly, he was closing the door, leering maliciously. "Who knows? They may never want to come out!"

  The door shut with a thud and Meagan was engulfed in total darkness. Suddenly it opened again, letting in a thin ray of white light and the rank smell of Gardner's breath.

  "Listen, missy, I am going to prove to you that you've misjudged me. I'll allow you to come out and start fresh with me, whenever you call. Take a few minutes to think about that rich chamber waiting upstairs—and the seamen who will be arriving soon to join you. I'll be waiting."

  With that, he slammed the door in her face and Meagan heard the bolt slide across.

  Gardner's lumbering footsteps receded as she shouted, "Loathsome vermin! Odious gargoyle! Noxious, slimy scum!"

  If she could have thought of any more epithets, she would have employed them. The sound of his retreat had ended by the time she fell silent and now all Meagan could hear was a steady dripping in the dungeon below, accompanied by an odd squeaking from time to time.

  Rats, she thought in revulsion. Ugh!

  There was no light whatever and even after several minutes passed on the step, her sight had barely improved. She could make out the gray outline of stone walls and steep, wet stairs that curved downward into more blackness.

  Meagan was afraid to sit down or lean against the slimy walls, imagining that great hordes of rodents or spiders would swarm over her. The air was cold, its chill increased by the dampness. Through her black dress, Meagan's skin prickled, and after a short time she grew stiff. She waited tensely for the arrival of the seamen, all hardened criminals—murderers perhaps—in her imagination. At length, she decided that some course of action was called for. Summoning every ounce of courage from within, she descended haltingly to explore the dungeon below in hopes of discovering either a hiding place or an effective weapon.

  Once on the cobbled floor, the sound of scurrying rats intensified. When one nibbled at the toe of her slipper, Meagan thought she would die of fright. Convulsively, she kicked out, feeling stiff wet fur brush across her foot before the rat came loose and flew against the far wall.

  "Dear, merciful God!" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hammering of her heart. "That Gardner monster was right. He does begin to look good next to this place!"

  But Meagan knew she would never give in to him. Since the day she had left Fairfax County, she had been forced to compromise her standards again and again until her once fierce self-respect and pride were badly eroded. She knew now that this was the one time she would have to stand firm, for if she submitted to Gardner she would despise herself even more than she despised him.

  Feeling more determined, Meagan began to move slowly through the dungeon. She discovered chains and shackles bolted to the stone walls and shuddered as she thought of the poor men at Gardner's mercy who had suffered here.

  There were no tiny storerooms or closets for her to hide in, but she did discover another huge room annexed to the dungeon. It was filled with wooden crates and barrels which were packed with wine and liquor. Meagan was elated. She decided she could stave off a dozen men with the bottles, using them full as clubs or empty and broken to stab her attackers. She chose two hefty quarts of burgundy and perched atop a barrel to wait.

  As luck would have it, barely an hour passed before she heard the door creak, followed by footsteps on the stone staircase. There was low, indistinct conversation, and then, as the men drew nearer, Meagan recognized the bluff voice of Henry Gardner.

  "Where could the little she-wolf have gotten to?" he wondered, then called out, "Missy, show yourself!"

  They approached the door and Meagan stationed herself, bottles poised and heart pounding, around the corner from it. As the first man came into view, she brought the quart of burgundy crashing down over his head and he crumpled to the floor at her feet.

  Chapter 22

  There was no time for shock. Meagan disposed of the dripping, splintered bottleneck and instantly grasped the second one with both hands. Even as she raised it, peering in the darkness for her next target, a steely hand caught her wrist. Pressure was applied until Meagan exclaimed aloud in pain and her fingers opened to surrender the heavy instrument. However, if her attacker thought that she would be a willing captive, he was in for a surprise. As powerful arms held her fast, drawing her near, she began to kick, wriggle and claw the air in search of his cheeks.

  A familiar, dry chuckle broke the tension. Meagan's eyes went wide as she drew back, trying to confirm the man's identity. Through the dense shadows she perceived the gleam of a familiar smile and wondered how she had not recognized those warm strong hands, arms that had hel
d her so many times before.

  "My little vixen!" he laughed softly, enfolding her in an embrace that Meagan willingly accepted. "How fortunate for both of us that I chose to allow Major Gardner to lead the way!"

  Her bones seemed to melt as she sobbed, "Oh, Lion!" and pressed her face against the clean-smelling expanse of his shirt. "Please take me away! Do not force me to remain here—I simply will not! I refuse!"

  Suddenly she shuddered, swept by a cold, prickling chill, and huddled closer to his muscular frame.

  Lion lifted her off the ground so that he might study her face in the gray light; he found it filled with the warring emotions of anxious fright and rebellious determination.

  "Meagan, what could make you imagine that I would force you to remain in this place? Why do you think I am here? To pay a social call on the ingratiating Major Gardner?"

  "B—but—Mrs. Bingham told me you agreed that I should work here—"

  "Don't be a fool!" he broke in, his voice hard. "You know me better than that. I came to take you away as soon as I learned what she had done."

  Meagan's shuddering subsided into a few last tremors of pure relief as Lion scooped her up like a child and moved confidently through the darkness toward the curving stone steps.

  "You can see in the dark!" she accused him happily. "Like a cat! A lion!" Boldly, she snuggled her face against his neck, the collar of his fine linen shirt and touched his hair. "Thank you for rescuing me, though I should have managed myself somehow."

  Lion was grinning as they came into the brightly lit pantry and he set her on her feet.

  "That I can believe! And Major Gardner will have the swollen head to prove it."

  She held fast to his arm during their brief tour of the house to retrieve her belongings and inform the butler of his master's whereabouts. Lion laughed out in great amusement when they entered the vulgar red bedchamber.