"Seems to me, since you were the one manhandling a woman, there's a savagery in your blood." He hardened his countenance and stared at the old bird. "Don't touch her or any other female like that again."
The butler nodded, but his mouth twisted as if he sucked lemons. "I hadn't thought she'd fallen under your special protection. You always seemed so honorable… set in your grief."
Such wretched thinking. The man leapt from Jewell as an attacker to a doxy. Anger burned inside, making Welling almost ball his fists. Beating a pompous, ancient windbag wouldn't do. "For you, either the girl is treacherous or I brutalize my bedfellows. Palmers, your mind is more limited than I thought. Go to your chambers, old man, and treat Miss Jewell better. She's a good worker and very doting to my son. Consider this your only warning."
"Yes, sir. While you're here, you'll see I keep your orders." The man dipped and plodded down the hall and out of sight.
Standing in the quiet of Firelynn, Wellings let the implied threat soak into his brainbox. What did Miss Jewell experience during the months of his absence? And even if he sent for his son and her upon occasion to visit Port Elizabeth, what would the years without his protection do to her?
With a shake of his head, he stepped into the study, rebuking himself for these cares, until he saw the maid standing in the shadow of Eliza's portrait. The likeness of Jewell's eyes to the one of the portrait were unmistakable, except for the shadows of anger crowding the girl's pupils. No, that intensity matched the Eliza of his dreams.
Jewell folded her hands behind her back. "What do you want of me?"
Closing the door, he thought of what to say. What did he want? Definitely something Jewell and time could never make happen.
He moved closer, taking in the maid's caramel skin, her straight posture, the sense of pride swirling about her surprising curves. "So you've made an enemy of Palmers. With old Jack, that makes two."
Still fingering her ruined apron like it was prized silk, she lifted her chin. "And you, for denyin' my freedom. That would make three."
"I'm no enemy, Jewell. I'd think that the night of the storm would make you recognize this."
"So you don't hit me. Or leach after me. Or call me ‘dirt’ to my face. You still begrudge me my freedom. Maybe if you were in town more, you'd have me fetch a pet monkey and chase after you like the other pageboys."
"I don't have a pet monkey. And you are no pageboy."
He looked above her head, away from the girl's darkening cheeks to Eliza's wistful smile painted in oils, very unlike the frowns haunting him at night. "If you were free, Miss Jewell, what would you do?"
"I could seek employment. Maybe a family that needed an able worker. One that wouldn't be so threatened by a dark face. Yes, that would be good."
"You think Palmers is threatened by you? Old Jack didn’t seem that fearful when you hit him with a rock. No, he seemed riled."
"What else would you call it? They won't let me be. They look for evil in everything I do." She tugged at her tucker, pulling it closer to her throat. "Or they find new ways to humble me. A new family, a new place, would do better."
Jewell hated his household that much. So like Eliza. He turned his back to her and moved to the sideboard, splaying his fingers about the brandy bottle, but resisted the urge to taste and drown his conscience. "Jonas would miss you."
"Soon he'd be taken from me. It's better to do it now. I'll just be a faded memory."
He pivoted, his heart pounding with anger. "Memories don't fade. They find the means to return. Your leaving would be hurtful to my son. Even a bacon-brained idiot can see the strength of his attachment." He ran a hand through his hair, and softened his tone." I won't have him hurt, not when I can prevent it."
She swiped at her eye and nodded. "Then good night, sir. Don't tell Palmers I'm no longer free. Then, he'll really be evil, very cruel with his gloating."
As she moved past him, he caught her arm. She flinched then stopped. "Yes, sir?"
He'd seen her tense like this before but thought it was his brandy-infused breath. She'd suffered something, but that mystery couldn't be solved now. He'd come to a decision, one she needed to hear. "I'm not done." Letting go of her, he pointed to the sofa. "Have a seat."
Her beautiful eyes grew large. She backed up to the flowery tufted cushions, but did not sit.
He moved his hand to encourage her to sit, lowering his fingers as if he were leading musicians.
She jutted out her chin and then sank to the edge as if the puffy thing would bite her. "Yes, sir."
"I’m going to take Jonas to South Africa with me. You're right about him needing to be more entwined in his father's life."
A smile formed on her full lips. "That's very good."
"But, he can only come if you travel with him too."
Her mystical eyes squinted before she looked down at the floor. "I'll try to prepare him for the voyage. I know journeyin' by boat can be terrible."
She didn't understand, and he needed her to. He stooped beside her. "No, Miss Jewel. You will come with us and live in Port Elizabeth. How do you feel about that?"
She picked at her apron, and her voice sounded low and humbled. "What does an owner's request mean to a possession? What is it you wish to hear?"
Perhaps it was selfish, but he'd hoped she would sound happy about this, maybe even display a little gratitude. Those few times Eliza was happy, her irises lit like a candle, and her eyes danced.
No sparkle filled the maid's. They might've even held tears.
Jewell stood and curtsied. "Goodnight, Lord Welling."
Giving her freedom wasn't something he had prepared to do, and it made the paperwork in his jacket feel small, inconsequential. Yet, he wasn't forsaking his influence over the willful girl. "Wait, we are not done."
She released the doorknob and spun back to him. Her arms folded about her, and she heaved out a sigh. "I'm ready for my punishment."
"What?"
"For escaping.'" The girl came closer, her fingers clutching the edge of her emerald bodice. "There's no cane in here, but the poker’ll do." She gulped and shut her eyes, and turned her backside to him. "Wrap your jacket about it. That'll leave no marks."
Studying the curves of her pushed punishment far from his mind. No, a drunken vision of holding fire against his chest near the mantel stirred. He raked at his temples. "Jewell, no. Please face me."
She whirled around with fists levied. "Then what do you want?"
He pulled from his jacket the paperwork he'd gotten from his solicitor and draped it over her wrists. "Can you read, Miss Jewel?
The girl glared at him, neither nodding nor shaking her head, but the almond eyes held flames, and they bemused his soul.
Nothing meant more in that moment than seeing a glimpse of Eliza alive in Jewell. Memories of a fast courtship and an inferno of arguments and loving swept through him, fixing his boots to the floor, pinning his gaze. He blinked and remembered he was in Firelynn with his wife's maid, not Eliza.
He covered the ache with a cough. "These were to give you some papers to satisfy you here, in London, but I think these are exactly what you need to begin a new adventure."
Precious held her breath. The man offered her papers to dismiss her. Tossed out with no position to go to. How would she get on?
"Look at the papers, Jewell."
Her arms trembled beneath her thick cuffs and by sheer will she chased the vibrations away. She'd show him and Old Jack and Mr. Palmer. Precious Jewell would make her own way, or die in the tryin'.
His brows furrowed. "Jewell, sit and read the paper. That's an order."
Not sure of what to make of anything, she half-pivoted and again eased onto the edge of the thick cushions. Servants weren't to sit in these places for entertaining, and never someone like her.
He took the pages and waved them before her face. "Read it aloud."
The scrawl appeared foreign, but there were words that she could make out. Servant, Five Years. "I don'
t understand."
He paced back and forth as if he searched for something to explain these papers. Maybe he couldn't make sense of them either.
Wrenching his neck, he stopped and planted a few feet from her. "These documents, if you place your mark next to mine, will make you an indentured servant. Immediately, you will no longer be a slave. After five years of faithful service, you will be free."
His words stung her ears. What did he mean? And why five years? "How is this free?"
Folding his arms behind his back, he stopped. Tall and warrior-like, he seemed to struggle. Maybe this fanciful notion of being free was too much for him, too. He cleared his throat. "This is the means to honor Eliza's wishes with permanent legal freedom. You'll have earned a tidy sum during your service, so that you have the means to settle where you like, and I will have assured consistency for Jonas."
The emotion running through her veins, making her icy fingertips go fully numb, wasn't gratitude. He didn't trust her. She clutched the papers to her bosom. "I suppose that I should be happy."
"You are all Jonas and I have left of his mother. My work to build a colony in Port Elizabeth will be grueling. I need to know that he is loved and kept safe, daily."
Why was the man so thick? She balled up her ruined apron, clutching the coins sewn inside. "I could serve as a free woman."
A smirk settled again on his face, but his eyes held no joke. "Free, you could leave us, and what would that do to him? I am not good with children. And there's nothing like a little inducement to bring out the best."
That didn't make any sense. She held her shocked self as if she were freezing. "I'd be a good worker, free. You know I do good work."
"Miss Jewell, you attempted to run the last time we were in this room. I won't have the leisure of retrieving you in Africa. No. I need to ensure your loyalty. You wanted papers, didn't you? This is my bargain."
She jumped to her feet and pressed toward the door. Opening it, she wanted to be out his sight as she tried to decipher the words on the page. "If that is all, sir."
He plodded ahead of her and elbowed the door closed. His mighty shoulders blocked her path. "I need an answer now. You leave this room without a signature then you will be a slave, my slave always. And when I am gone, Palmers will control your fate. It will be difficult to get new employ without these."
Taunting her, he waved the papers. "Or maybe Old Jack will help. He seemed very interested in your position. Be sensible. Take my bargain."
The man had all the power, but didn't he have it whether she signed the documents or not?
"Why these?" Tears of frustration welled, but she swallowed them and crunched up the papers in her hand. "Why not just take me to Port Elizabeth, the horrid place where your people put mine in chains and began my way as a savage?"
"I'm not responsible for slavery, but I intend to clear up the conditions put in place by the English, Dutch, French, all the civilized societies that took from Africa. So I'll start my penance for my people by ending my tenure as a slaver."
"This is just a change in title. You control my fate here and there. Nothin' substitutes for havin' my own say."
His chuckles were low and easy, but his stare sliced through her. "It's never that easy. And who truly has their own say, as you put it? No, we hope for the best in our circumstances."
"So, signing these papers will make you feel better?"
"I just want a servant, one dedicated to happiness of my heir. I don't want you jumping when I enter a room. And, though your form is pleasing, I'd rather not have it turned to me, expecting a lashing."
Her cheeks, even the bruised one, felt hot but his gaze did not break. "Jewell, I am leading the colonists to make peace with the blacks and the small communities surrounding Port Elizabeth. I can’t do that with doubts about Jonas's care and his safety."
Sliding the papers from her, he walked over to his desk and whipped out a bottle of ink, a sharp quill, and a blotter. Unfurling the parchment, he smoothed it onto the mahogany surface of his writing desk. "Come on, Miss Jewel. This is right."
How could it be, when he'd taken her excuses away? He'd thought about this, plotted it out in a matter of a few days. She took the quill from his hand, sliding the soft feather over her knuckles. "This will set me free in five years? I have your word on it?"
He nodded and pushed the papers closer to her. "Yes, five years and your service will be done. Then you will be free and have earned enough money to think of marrying or returning to England, or even settling in Port Elizabeth. Who knows? Some fellow there may catch your eye. You may not want to leave."
It wasn't that easy. Being pushed to sign things she could barely read, sucking in promises of some distant five years, hurt her heart. She put the quill down and stared at the smirk on his face. "So you've planned my future. You're acting more like an American master every day. Did you pick the buck I'm to breed with, too?"
With wide eyes, he tapped his lips then turned from her and went and stood near Eliza's picture. "My baroness wanted you freed. I'm giving you a mechanism that does so, but puts her son's happiness first. In five years, he'll be breeched, out of pinafores and in trousers. His need for a substitute mother will have diminished."
Mother to Jonas? What was the man thinking? She shook her head.
A sigh steamed out of the baron. "I'd like to think Eliza left this world in peace, knowing you'd protect her babe. She knew I would be too busy for the job. We owe this to Eliza."
Poor Eliza Marsdale. She'd loved every minute of carrying the boy in her womb. The notion of the babe gave her such pleasure. Didn't they both cry at the wiggle of Eliza's tummy at his quickening? She was good, and always doting and lenient with Precious. A mumble of yes left her lips, but that wasn't good enough. She cleared her throat. "I do owe her, sir. Not you. Free me, and I will serve Jonas and you."
"I haven't in me to trust like that. You could change your mind and leave me."
His large blue eyes captured her and held her in place. She couldn't breathe or cede to his notions. Finally, she looked down to the polished mahogany flooring and pushed her slipper back and forth. "Miss Eliza trusted me, confided in me, thought me good enough to be freed. Wouldn't you want to be free too?"
"Jonas has chosen you, Jewell. I've heard him call you Mama on more than one occasion. Shall you allow your stubborn spirit to deny Eliza's joy?"
He'd spied her and Jonas before today? When? And was she so wrapped up in loving the boy she hadn't noticed? The baron's tone didn't sound cocky, as it had before. No, it bore hints of sadness, maybe even defeat. She lifted her head and caught a glimpse of him, staring and stiffening his jaw. He wasn't use to pleading, but why did he need this?
Her chest constricted, and she felt for the quill. "You win."
Pushing fear and doubt to the back of her mind, she put her mark on the documents, where he had pointed. "What now?"
His hand, warm and strong, closed about hers. The odd mixture of his woodsy scent and fresh linen filled her nostrils. "This is for the best," he said. Taking the quill, he put his elegant signature above hers on both papers then offered her one page. "Keep this. The other goes to my solicitor. Now, off to bed. In the morn, pack and get Jonas ready. We leave at week's end."
She clutched the parchment, and wrapped it in her apron. "Yes, master."
"It's Welling, Gareth Conroy, the third Lord Welling."
She backed away. "Yes, master." On the other side of the door, she took a whole breath. She was sort of free, but what did that mean in this Port Elizabeth place?
She started moving her slippers against the treads and down to her room when a tiny cry sounded. Jonas?
Pivoting, she decided to check on him and climbed the stairs to the second level. When she passed the hall mirror, she stopped and peered at her frozen cheeks, her poked- out lips. Though her face still held a dark bruise, it did nothing to draw attention from the numbness straining her face. She had papers, but only as part of a bad bargain.
What would become of her? Would she ever know freedom?
Pulling off her mobcap, she let her shiny braids fall near her chin and rubbed at her temples. Determination set in her jaw and filled her lungs with heat. It didn't matter what Lord Welling or whatever he called himself today said, or even what this paper held. She was free as soon as her foot stepped on the shores of Port Elizabeth. She'd show him. She'd show them all.
The End of This Episode. Tune in For Episode II. Learn more at VanessaRiley.com
Extras
Sneak Peak The Bargain II
Episode II of The Bargain
Length: 8 Chapters (25,000 words)
Summary: Precious Jewell’s Misadventures at Sea Heading to Port Elizabeth
Status: Available for pre-order/order.
The vastness of the cresting ocean isn't enough to drown Precious Jewell's high spirits or her dreams of doing for herself, but a false move and an old nightmare have placed her in more jeopardy, Lord Welling's bedchamber.
Captaining his schooner to Port Elizabeth was his only refuge, until his ship was invaded by land lovers, his son and his challenging caregiver. Perhaps, Miss Jewell's vivacity and audacity are just what he needs to quell rebellion amongst his crew and his heart. Get The Bargain II.
An Excerpt from Episode II:
Closing the door, Precious filled her lungs again. The cedar of the wood and the salt in the air already felt good, cleansing. Easing her way, with just moonlight as her guide, she found the ladder that led to the deck. Her eyes adjusted well to the night. They always had, more so now when she needed to see evil coming her way.
For a few seconds, she put her hand on the rung. It didn't bite. It didn't latch hold of her, or scream for someone to catch her. She took another quick breath. Everything would be all right.
Cinching up her muslin robe, she raised her head to the purpled bits of sky above. The peace of it called to her. If she stayed in the shadows, all would be well. Slowly, she took hold of the springy wood again and eased her way up. This part of the deck was empty. Maybe all the men Mrs. Narvel warned of were tucked into their hammocks, too. Feeling more confident, Precious pushed to the railing.
The Bargain Page 4