Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140)

Home > Other > Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) > Page 1
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 1

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally




  Rose’s Pledge ©2012 by Sally Laity and Dianna Crawford

  Mariah’s Quest © 2012 by Sally Laity and Dianna Crawford

  Lily’s Plight © 2013 by Sally Laity and Diana Crawford

  Print ISBN 978-1-63058-157-2

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-614-0

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-615-7

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image: Dennis K. Johnson / GettyImages

  Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Rose’s Pledge

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Discussion Questions

  Mariah’s Quest

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Discussion Questions

  Lily’s Plight

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Author’s Note

  Discussion Questions

  About the Authors

  ROSE’S PLEDGE

  DAUGHTERS OF HARWOOD HOUSE

  Book One

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The authors gratefully acknowledge the generous assistance provided by:

  Abigail Andrews

  Washington County Free Library

  Hagerstown, Maryland

  Sandy Weston

  Grafton Library

  Grafton, West Virginia

  These individuals helped us gather necessary period data and shared their extensive knowledge of various settings used in this story. To you we express our sincere appreciation.

  Special thanks to fellow writers and friends:

  Delia Latham

  Sue Rich

  Your tireless critiquing of our work in progress, together with suggestions and comments along the way, were an immense help. May the Lord bless you both.

  DEDICATION

  This book is lovingly dedicated to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who blessed this magnificent nation from its founding, and to our families, whose love and support makes our writing possible.

  Chapter 1

  Bath, England, 1753

  The rat-tat-tat of the brass door knocker echoed eerily through the spacious house.

  Kneeling on the kitchen’s stone floor, Rose Harwood started. Oh no. Please, not now. She dropped the scrub brush into the bucket and scrambled to her feet, wiping her hands on her long work apron. The pungent odor of lye soap clung stubbornly to them, but she could do nothing about that at the moment. Perhaps the caller would not notice the smell—or worse, her red hands. Never before had she undertaken such menial labor.

  Even as she tore off the soiled apron, her frantic gaze searched worktables and shelves until it landed on the spice chest. Mexican vanilla beans could mask the scent. But no…she could not justify the ruination of something so costly to replace.

  Especially now.

  The knocker rapped several more times. Louder. More insistent.

  “Do calm yourself, Rose.” Clasping her hands together, she hiked her chin with new resolve. “I simply shan’t go to the door.”

  But that wouldn’t do either. Under normal circumstances, if none of the Harwood family happened to be in residence, the hired girl would answer a summons. But circumstances were no longer normal. Several weeks past, Rose had been forced to let Hildy go. Word must not get out, lest people begin to suspect.

  Expense be hanged. She lifted the spice chest from a niche beside the hearth oven and opened it, releasing myriad exotic fragrances into the air. Without so much as a second to savor the sweet perfumes, she snatched the small pouch of vanilla beans, shook two brown stalks out, and rubbed them vigorously over her hands.

  A third, more demanding, tapping resounded through the rooms.

  Was this to be
the day of the family’s undoing? Inhaling a troubled breath, Rose hurried to the front door and opened it. “Constable Bradley.” She swallowed her angst and bobbed a curtsy. “Good morning to you, sir.”

  “Good day to you, Miss Harwood. I trust you are in good health.” He touched his hat in a polite gesture. “Is your father at home?”

  Rose had never noticed how huge the local official was. In his great winter coat, he quite filled the entry. She shook off the wayward thought. “I am most sorry, sir, he is not. May I be of service?”

  “’Tis gentlemen’s business, miss.” Clutching the edge of the warm fur hat he’d removed, the aging man turned to leave. “I’ll fetch him down at his shop.”

  Fetch him? The constable had come to place Papa under arrest! Her worst fears realized, Rose caught hold of the man’s arm. “My father keeps no secrets from me. Pray, do come inside. I’m sure there must be another answer.”

  His bushy eyebrows dipped as he frowned down at her. “Forgive me, miss. I have me duty.”

  “Please, sir. I ask but five minutes.”

  He hesitated then exhaled in a huff. “Very well. But not one minute more.”

  As she stepped aside for him to enter, she glanced up and down the lane. No one seemed to be about, but that didn’t mean that some snoopy neighbor wasn’t peeping out from behind lace curtains. Bath most certainly had its share of busybodies.

  She closed the door and turned to the official, who dwarfed the small, tastefully furnished parlor. “Do warm yourself at the fire.”

  Moving to the marble hearth, the constable thrust forth his beefy hands toward the comforting glow. But despite his seeming compliance in giving ear to her request, the expression on his heavily jowled face remained dour.

  Rose attempted a bit of light conversation, desperate to establish some measure of rapport. “I shall be exceedingly heartened when April brings a bit of spring weather, will you not?”

  It was wasted effort, as her visitor did not deign to reply. Instead, he shot her a worried look. “Be assured, Miss Harwood, ’tis all legal and final. I’ve the papers right here in me pocket.” He patted his coat. “I’m duty bound to take your father into custody.”

  “But if you please, sir, Papa is seeking a loan even as we speak. Tomorrow or the next day he’s certain to have the money. See if he won’t.”

  The constable shook his head. “Forgive me, miss, but Merchant Solomon, of Bristol, will wait no longer. I’ve been ordered to collect either the money owed by Henry Harwood or the man himself this day. So I’d best get meself down to his shop.”

  Rose twisted her hands together and bit down hard on her lip. She could not let such a thing happen. Not to Papa. Especially since none of this was his fault.

  She stepped in front of the constable, blocking his path. “You said you were told to arrest him today. Yet the day has scarcely begun. I beg you, please give me until the last hour. I pledge most sincerely that I shall satisfy Papa’s account with Supplier Solomon before the sun sets.”

  The officer absently brushed back strands of his graying hair and plunked his beaver hat atop his head once again.

  Rose sensed the man was contemplating her proposal and therefore pressed her advantage. “Constable Bradley, you’ve known me my whole life. You know I am a responsible person. I’ve run this household since I was a mere thirteen years of age, taking care of my brothers and sisters, never once straying from my obligations. If I say I will do this, you can be most assured that I will.”

  His expression softened. “Ye’ve been a blessing to your pa, that’s certain. A comely lass such as yourself, sacrificing your courting years to help your family. Nevertheless, if your father is unable—”

  “I vow I shall see to the matter. I mean this most sincerely.” She met his gaze squarely, despite the fact he’d as much as called her a spinster. She had to remain strong. Do what Papa could not bring himself to do.

  The constable sighed. “Very well, Miss Harwood. Ye have ’til nightfall. Not a moment more.”

  Vastly relieved, Rose ushered the official out then returned to take mental inventory of the room. Each familiar article of furniture, every table decoration, and even the exquisite carpets had been carefully, lovingly, selected by her mother. The family had basked in its beauty over the years. But alas, sentiment no longer had a place here. All must be sold. Now. Today. But where? Market day wasn’t until Friday.

  In a rise of panic, she pressed her hands to her temples. “Where? Where?”

  The Bristol docks.

  “Of course!” Several ships were certain to be in port, with captains looking for quality merchandise to take abroad and sell for profit. Since she must journey there to deal with Mr. Solomon anyway…

  She plucked a Chinese jade figurine from the mantel. So much to pack and load. So little time. La, why had Mariah and Lily chosen this day of all days to go visiting? She needed their assistance desperately. With no time to waste, she’d simply have to go and fetch them.

  But reality stopped her in her tracks. Mariah was on a mission of her own, to gain a wedding proposal from Lawrence Wirkworth before their family’s calamitous reversal of fortune became common knowledge. Rose shook her head. How typical of Mariah to think only of herself.

  In truth, however, Rose had to concede it was essential for her sister to find swift success. Once the family’s finest goods were loaded onto the cart and hauled out of town, all of Bath would see and know that something was amiss at Harwood House.

  “May God help us all.”

  Chilled to the bone and exhausted from a day of dickering and bartering, Rose trudged up to the front entrance in the last faint light of eventide. The thirteen-mile distance from Bristol had seemed more like a hundred on the rutted, ice-crusted roads, despite the fact that, partway, a kind passerby had provided a ride in his wagon. The elements had been the ruination of her best shoes, and several spots on her feet burned as if a hot poker had tormented her heels and toes. But her return to Bath before nightfall had been imperative.

  Thank Providence, the wax-sealed envelope from Mr. Solomon now lay in the hands of the constable. She’d obtained a reprieve for Papa. Gotten him another month to pay the remainder of his debt.

  With a weary sigh, she reached for the door latch. The threat of this day had been conquered, albeit at great cost. Far greater than she would ever have foreseen.

  She swallowed her trepidation and pushed the door open.

  A cluster of relatives—her entire family—turned to face her, their grim faces snatching from her mind the fine speech she’d concocted along the way. Papa stood beside Mariah, a comforting arm about her, both looking as if they’d just returned from a funeral. In sweet contrast, her youngest sister, Lily, greeted Rose with a gentle smile. Next to Lily stood Tommy, the baby of the family. Only a scant spark of his usual mischief glowed in the twelve-year-old’s eyes.

  Even Charles, their married brother, was present. By this hour of the evening, he should have been in his own home with his wife and children. In the erratic light of an untrimmed lamp wick, his lean face seemed much older. Much harder.

  Mariah broke from the group. “Just where, might I ask, have you been?” Anger contorted the family beauty’s delicate features into an ugly accusation as she rushed toward Rose. Her deep blue eyes flashed fire, and her mass of black ringlets bobbed in disarray. “Look about you, Rose. We have been robbed. Our family home has been ransacked. Everything of value is gone—even the money Papa set aside for my dowry.” She paused, and her expression became accusing. “Tell me this is not your doing. If it is, I demand you explain yourself.” She planted a hand on either hip, her lips pressed into a grim line.

  Rose had hoped for a moment or two to rest before facing her loved ones, but it was not to be. Somehow she would have to relate the sordid details of this trying day.

  Henry Harwood, the kindest of fathers, now loomed before her, more agitated than she’d ever seen him. He grasped her by the shoulders. “I m
ust ask what you know of this, daughter. Speak up. Tell us all.”

  Rose felt the bite of his fingers through the thickness of her woolen cloak. She lifted her gaze to the beloved face that had aged noticeably in the past few weeks since the financial trouble erupted—when the flamboyant Sir Gordon Ridgeway had met an untimely death in a duel mere days after taking possession of fifty signature brooches he was in the habit of passing out to his lady friends. The gentleman had begged off paying for the jewelry, promising to return in a fortnight with the money. Papa could not have refused the young bachelor, his best customer. But now Sir Ridgeway’s uncle refused to honor the debt, refused even to acknowledge a debt existed, leaving her father, the finest goldsmith between Oxford and Bristol, in ruin.

  Surely he would understand her actions of this day and forgive her desperate deeds. She fervently prayed it would be so. Hadn’t she proved how much she cared for her family these past twelve years since her mother’s death on the childbed? She’d taken charge of newborn babe Tommy, as well as the other children, run a well-ordered household. Putting the needs of her dear ones first, she’d unselfishly set aside even her own chances to wed.

  Of course her father would understand. He knew her heart as she did his. She reached past the folds of her cloak to smooth a crease alongside his tight mouth. “I’ve aided the family in the one way I knew you could never bring yourself to do, Papa.”

  She looked past him to Charles, who bore a strong resemblance to their lank-boned father, down to an identical trim mustache. “I know you’ll all see the wisdom in what I’ve done. I’ll tell you everything. But first—” Rose shifted her attention to her youngest sister, who had yet to venture forward. “Lily, dearest, would you mind fetching me a cup of tea? I’ve had a most tiresome day.”

  The growing worry in Lily’s dove-gray eyes melted away, replaced by a simple trusting goodness that never ceased to lift Rose’s spirits. “I shan’t be a minute,” she said in her airy voice. “The kettle is already heating.”

  As the girl hastened out of the parlor, Rose noticed how tall the lass had grown this past year. The child had become a maiden last month, on her fourteenth birthday. She was now old enough, Rose fervently hoped, to do without her big sister. Older than she herself had been when their mother passed from this life.

 

‹ Prev