Goddess Born

by Kari Edgren

  A neatly dressed man approached our pathetic little party to whisper something to Captain Harlow, who nodded and got to his feet.

  “If you have no further need of my assistance, Miss Kilbrid, I must excuse myself.”

  “Yes, of course. Ben will see me safely to the inn.”

  “Your servant, miss.” The captain bowed again before returning the short distance to the group of waiting men.

  “How are you feeling, Miss Kilbrid?” Ben asked once the captain was gone.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

  “When did he pass?”

  “Yesterday evening.”

  Confusion briefly edged out the grief in Ben’s face. “Did word come from Brighmor this morning?”

  “No,” I said in a hurry. “It’s just that the illness was so advanced, he couldn’t have survived more than another day.”

  Ben nodded a subtle agreement. “You must be right.” Pushing to his feet, he moved several steps away to stare out over the water, leaving me alone to sort out this most recent disaster.

  A chill settled inside me, and I shivered despite the hot sunlight. For two days my emotions had been a constant battle. Now, I felt only a great weariness. My first thought was to return post haste to the soft downy bed at Meredith House, but my legs could not yet be trusted to go the three blocks to the inn. Denied this means of escape, I remained seated on the dirty wooden crate and tried to sort out what to do next.

  The hard reality of my situation stared me bleakly in the face—for the first time I was truly alone in the world, without a single known living relation. More than forty years ago my father had barely escaped from Ireland with a price on his head, leaving behind all of his family and connections in search of a new home. My maternal grandparents were the first on that side to emigrate, also fleeing Ireland for the New World, but they had passed away years before and my mother was their only child. One year after my mother died, my older brother Sean had a serious falling out with our father and left for the West Indies. Three years had passed without word from him when my world was shaken anew with rumors that he had been mortally wounded in a drunken brawl. Now even Samuel Kilbrid, my second cousin once removed, was dead, buried deep in the Atlantic Ocean.

  So there I was, eighteen years old with no one to consult but myself. Under the circumstances, perhaps I should have been thankful for options so stark they were easily sorted through. I could return home and marry Nathan Crowley without delay to preserve my property and fortune, or I could return home, refuse to marry Nathan, have my life systematically ruined, and then be forced to marry him in order to save my good name and what remained of my estate. Either way, it would be necessary to suppress my birthright for risk of discovery, until only the memory of my former self remained.

  I shuddered at the prospect of such a miserable life and began silently praying for a miracle when my thoughts were interrupted by an angry outburst of voices. To my right, about twenty feet away, I saw Captain Harlow seated on a crate similar to the one I sat upon, behind a makeshift desk constructed of barrels and wooden planks. More than a dozen men stood facing him. One man near the front of this group had started yelling, and only the sight of the many well-armed sailors seemed to stop him from further escalating the confrontation.

  Though my heart began to race, Captain Harlow appeared entirely bored as he waited for the man to finish. Finding no further provocation, the man finally calmed down, at which time the captain said something beyond my hearing, to the amusement of those assembled. The man openly bristled at the jest, and I feared the dispute would start anew when he too laughed, thrusting out a hand for the captain to shake. This done, the man pulled a small leather moneybag from his coat pocket. He dropped it on the table, receiving a sheet of rolled parchment in return.

  The exchange completed, Captain Harlow waved to a lad barely in his first whiskers, who had been standing nearby in another, more somber group of individuals. This boy walked over to the desk where he was introduced to the man with the parchment. They too shook hands and then walked off together away from the docks. Intrigued by the whole affair, I forgot my own problems for a moment.

  “Do you wish to leave, Miss Kilbrid?” Ben asked, having returned to my side when the man first began his angry tirade.

  I watched another man walk up to the desk to speak with the captain. “What are they doing over there?”

  “They’re buying indentures,” Ben said.

  Of course! Indentured servants were common throughout the Colonies, especially in Pennsylvania where ready labor often ran short. My own father had relied upon this form of labor, having purchased at least a score of contracts over the years, but never before had I witnessed the actual proceedings.

  The two groups could not have been more different in nature. The men clustered in front of the desk were loud and boisterous, unrestrained in showing their anger or mirth during the negotiations. The lot of men and boys standing behind Captain Harlow and his armed sailors looked ill at ease as they waited to learn their fate.

  How very much like myself. Except that many of these individuals had signed up, willing to trade four to seven years of labor for passage to the Colonies. Some, I had heard were criminals sent over from England, opting for transport over hanging on the gallows. As another boy walked off with his new master, I thought of sailing away to a place where I could start again without Nathan Crowley. Girls could sign up to serve in numerous occupations, such as maids and cooks, though this trade generally only went one way. Europe sent over its most impoverished and depraved, but needed none of our own in return.

  While I mulled over my own miserable fate, I noticed one of the remaining indentures staring in my direction. Although he wore the same rough garb as his companions and looked equally disheveled after eight weeks at sea, he held himself altogether different, in a manner that bespoke of confidence, verging on arrogance. He stood a good head taller than the other men, and from the breadth of his shoulders, appeared to be powerfully built. His light brown hair was tied back into a tangled ponytail, revealing a strong jaw and straight nose.

  In truth, I found his features most pleasing and thought how nice it would be if he were Samuel rather than an impoverished soul, waiting to be sold for labor. As I’d never met my cousin, it hardly took any effort to imagine the other man in his place, nor, in a moment of weakness, to allow the events to play out as they were supposed to before fate had so cruelly intervened.

  We’d have done as my father instructed and gone straight to the magistrate to be married. Unless, of course, Samuel had wanted a bath and shave at the inn first...I looked more closely at the man behind Captain Harlow. His present roughness possessed a certain appeal, though I’d not have begrudged him the chance to freshen up for the ceremony...Either way, Samuel and I would have been husband and wife no later than midday. And come nightfall...

  A sudden thrill teased my skin. Then what? Surely he’d not have demanded to share a bed until we were better acquainted...I traced the strong lines of the man’s face, and found the telltale signs of intelligence and a natural authority, without the least bit of cruelty...Though perhaps he would have been tempted to steal a kiss or two on our wedding night...

  Leaning forward a fraction of an inch, my lips parted ever so slightly. The sun had grown noticeably warmer, and the previous chill vanished beneath the thin line of perspiration that now dotted my nape. For a moment everything seemed to slow. The chaos and din fell away, and I clung to his gaze as though it were a lifeboat in the middle of a tumultuous sea.

  A minute or ten may have passed before the stranger offered the faintest smile and returned his attention to the captain. Sound and movement rushed in from every direction at once, yanking me back to the here and now. The spell of my vivid daydream broken, I hurriedly turned away, heat burning my cheeks. />
  Gracious heaven! What is wrong with me? Fanning myself the best I could with one hand, I cursed the state of mind that had allowed for such wild imaginings.

  Samuel was dead, and no amount of wishful thinking would bring him back. This other man would soon be gone as well, indentured to a new master. Under the circumstances, all I could do was return home to salvage what remained of my former life, either as Nathan’s wife or a destitute outcast. The chill seeped back into my chest, and I stared gloomily at the rough gray cobbles at my feet.

  Oh, if only that man were really my cousin. If only—

  The breath caught in my throat, and I griped the sides of the crate from the shock of so sudden an inspiration. If only...The cobbles blurred behind a cascade of thoughts that tumbled through my mind, one upon another. Convention, propriety, and even common sense disappeared under the growing pile, and I blinked in rapid succession as a very different future took shape before me. Whether from God or the Devil, I had just found my miracle.

  Forcing myself to exhale, I looked back at the young man with an entirely altered perspective. Outrageous couldn’t begin to describe this scheme, but under the circumstances I wasn’t about to sit around being picky. My father had sent me to Philadelphia to get my cousin, and my cousin I would get—or at least a cousin. Excitement surged through me as the idea took hold. Who could dispute the relation all men held in common from our first great progenitors Adam and Eve? Really, I could have picked any man off the dock and called him family. This particular man just happened to be available.

  Garnering my strength, I pushed up from the crate and walked toward the captain before I had a chance to reconsider. It was all I could do to appear calm when my insides were churning, threatening to give me away at any moment.

  “This way, Miss Kilbrid,” Ben said, turning to guide me back to the inn.

  Not trusting my voice, I remained silent while walking the last steps toward the group of men. Ben moved to my side without protest. Positioning myself at the end of the desk, I could easily hear the discussion between the captain and the next buyer.

  “I tell you, Mr. Fletcher, I won’t let him go for a shilling less than twelve pounds,” the captain was saying. “The lad can write and figure and is worth more than a common laborer.”

  “Come now, Captain Harlow,” Mr. Fletcher replied, keeping his voice as level as the captain’s. “Those skills have no favor with me. I need a strong boy capable of working the brick ovens.”

  Bricks were in constant demand, and by the looks of it Mr. Fletcher had seen some success. His black breeches and coat were of decent quality, as were his white stockings and black leather shoes. Change the trimmings, though, and he would be a very different sort of man. Locks of greasy black hair hung to his shoulders, framing his pasty skin and cunning little eyes. One glance and I did not trust this man to be master of anything, least of all another human being.

  “If you have no use for his education, then take that fellow instead.” Captain Harlow gestured to a large, solidly built man in his late twenties. “He would do well enough in the brickyard for a few years.”

  “I’m not looking to buy an ox,” Mr. Fletcher smoothly countered. “Accidents are costly in my business.”

  “And deadly, from what I hear,” Captain Harlow said.

  Mr. Fletcher narrowed his eyes at the captain. “What happened to that boy was no fault of mine. He got drunk at work and stumbled into an oven. Now, if you don’t mind I would like to finish our negotiations. My offer is eleven pounds and as I don’t see any higher bidders, you can either sell me the lad or take him back to England.”

  Tense silence filled the air between them. “Come here, Henry,” the captain finally said without taking his eyes from Mr. Fletcher.

  I watched the young man—Henry—walk toward the desk. It was now or never. “Excuse me, Captain,” I said. “I’ll pay twelve pounds for the lad.”

  Completely caught off guard, both Captain Harlow and Mr. Fletcher turned to gape at me. Only a second before I had been invisible, now I was the very center of attention. To make matters worse, Ben clasped my arm and leaned closer to me.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I hissed back while attempting to keep a pleasant smile on my face. As a servant, there was only so much Ben could do, and I felt him reluctantly let go of my arm. However, he didn’t move an inch from my side, and I was guaranteed a thorough questioning later. Fine with me, I thought, just let me finish here first.

  “Miss Kilbrid, this is highly irregular,” Captain Harlow said once he found his tongue. “Your father would never approve of your conducting such business.”

  “If you haven’t forgotten, Captain, my father is dead. As is my cousin, after taking passage on your ship.” This was certainly cruel, but I needed some leverage.

  “Yes, yes, of course I haven’t forgotten,” he said, his calm composure faltering. “Are you really in need of another servant?”

  “Captain Harlow, this is a matter between us,” Mr. Fletcher interrupted. He reached inside his coat for a large purse and started pulling out coins. “I see there is no other choice than to pay the twelve pounds.”

  “I’ll pay thirteen pounds,” I said.

  “Thirteen pounds!” Mr. Fletcher cried. “I demand you stop these negotiations at once and take my money. Obviously this girl has little idea how business works between men.”

  Henry stood no more than an arm’s length away, and though I refused to look at him while speaking to the captain, I felt his gaze firmly locked on my face. “Without my father and cousin I find myself in need of additional help. Ben has already taken up a great deal of extra responsibility, but with the growing season upon us, he needs to spend more time tending to the wheat. Didn’t you say this man could write and figure?”

  “Yes, he can. Henry received a very good education before his indenture.”

  “Then are we agreed on thirteen pounds?”

  “Fourteen pounds!” Mr. Fletcher countered. “And that is my final offer!”

  For most of the conversation I had purposefully focused on the captain, but following this outburst, I turned my attention to Mr. Fletcher. Consumed by rage, the man had temporarily lost his senses and now openly stared at Henry in a way that could only be described as carnal. It lasted hardly a moment before the sneer was yanked back into place. But there was no erasing what we had all seen, nor the strong impression that the job at the brickyard would have more to it than just tending the ovens.

  “I accept your thirteen pounds, Miss Kilbrid,” Captain Harlow said, extending a hand in my direction. We shook to seal the deal.

  “This is unacceptable!” Mr. Fletcher yelled, spraying both the captain and me with spittle. “I offered you more! How could you shake with this girl?”

  “Henry will be of more use at Brighmor Hall than in a brickyard. Good day to you, sir.” While the captain spoke he gave a nod to the armed men behind him.

  “I demand justice! There are witnesses here who will testify of your behavior.”

  “Were there witnesses when that lad stumbled into the oven?” Captain Harlow asked, his voice hard as flint. “Kindly be off before there is need to have you removed.”

  Two burly sailors moved in our direction. “This is not over, Captain,” Mr. Fletcher warned. “And as for you, young lady, I will get what is mine.” He spun on his heel and stormed away.

  Nobody spoke again until Mr. Fletcher disappeared from view.

  “Never liked that man,” Captain Harlow said, not really speaking to any one in particular. “Bad business, what happened to that last boy I sold him, but the bailiff assured me this morning there was nothing anyone could prove.” He shook his head slowly, scowling in the direction Mr. Fletcher had gone.

  “Excuse me, Captain, is there anything else y
ou need from me?” I was ready to have this business done and be on my way.

  “Just the thirteen pounds,” he said, reaching for a sheet of parchment.

  Oh, bugger! In my haste, I had left the inn without a single farthing. “Would you mind if Ben returned with it later? I seem to have forgotten to bring any money.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll have your cousin’s trunk delivered to your residence. My man can pick up the money then. Where are you staying?”

  “At the Meredith House, but only for tonight. We’ll be leaving for Hopewell in the morning.”

  “I will send it this afternoon,” he said, handing me the sheet of parchment. “This contract is good for seven years. Now, let me introduce your new servant, Mr. Henry Alan.”

  For the first time since walking away from the crate, I allowed myself to really look at Henry. “Hello, Mr. Alan,” I said, trying my very best to sound business-like. Unfortunately I had very limited experience at this sort of thing as most of my previous transactions had involved dresses and such. “I hope you will be happy at Brighmor Hall,” I added for good measure.

  “Thank you, Miss Kilbrid,” Henry said, returning my greeting with a slight nod. His perfect English accent conflicted somewhat with his unkempt appearance, and I wondered if anyone in Hopewell would notice that my Irish cousin didn’t sound much like an Irishman. Aside from this minor flaw, I found his voice to be very pleasant.

  “Happy at Brighmor?” the captain repeated back with good humor. “Fate was smiling on you when he sent Miss Kilbrid to the docks this morning. Rather than seven years under that blackguard Mr. Fletcher, you get to spend your time on one of the finest farms in Pennsylvania.” Here his expression turned steely and his voice picked up that flinty hardness. “Mr. Jonathan Kilbrid was a dear friend of mine. I will take it as a personal insult if you cause his daughter harm in any way.” The captain stared at Henry for another moment, then turned his attention back to me. “If he gives you any trouble, Miss Kilbrid, just send him back and I’ll see he’s properly punished. We’ll be docked in Philadelphia for the next two weeks to finish business and make some minor repairs to The Berkshire. After that time, you may contact my agent here in town. He will see things are taken care of in my absence.”