Colin would be thrilled to see her; she was certain of that. She reached into the lace tucker in her bodice for the proof of his love and drew out the ring she wore hidden on a chain around her neck in case his family returned unexpectedly.
Turning from the window, she caught sight of a rider on the edge of her vision coming up the lane. Colin? Please let it be him. Perhaps he’d decided not to go with the militia after all. She tucked her ring back out of sight again.
But as the rider neared, she could tell it was someone else. With his hat pulled low against the rain, she couldn’t make out the man’s face. Dread cinched her heart. Was he the bearer of bad news?
She didn’t wait for him to come to the door but snatched her cloak from the hall peg and tossed it about her shoulders as she hurried outside and down the steps. Before he even dismounted, she questioned him. “Have you come bearing news?”
“Actually, I have.” He gave a nod. “I’ve some mail from Colin.”
“You’ve seen him?” Hope sprang anew inside her being.
“Aye, at the militia encampment south of Alexandria. He’s there with my son.”
Suddenly Mariah remembered her manners. “La, please forgive me. Would you care to come inside out of the rain and have something warm to drink? You look drenched.”
“That I am, miss.” Swinging down to the ground, he shook rain from his slicker before following her up to the veranda. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Albert Tucker, Dennis’s father.”
Now that she took a closer look, Mariah remembered seeing him at the gala on race day. Though considerably more heavy than his son, he did share the same hazel eyes and a smile reminiscent of Tuck’s. “So pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Mariah Harwood, tutoress to Colin’s sisters.”
“Yes, I reckoned that. Dennis has often spoken kindly of you and how your tutorage has benefited the girls.” He followed her inside.
“We find your son a very entertaining young gentleman,” Mariah said, taking his rain slicker. “Do have a seat in the parlor. I’ll go tell the cook we’ll be needing refreshments.”
Moments later, she found Mr. Tucker comfortably settled in a wing chair near the fire. He looked up with a smile as she approached. “Actually, I’ve come with several pieces of correspondence. Colin asked me to collect all the Barclay mail.” He drew the items from an inside pocket of his frock coat.
“How kind of you.” Mariah accepted the proffered missives and laid them on the side table, then took a seat across from him. Despite being intensely curious about the letters, she forced herself to give full attention to the visitor. “I assume Colin and Dennis are both well. I’ve been sorely tempted to ride into the city and check on them myself.”
Mr. Tucker chuckled, then broke into full-blown laughter as he rested his hands on the full girth bulging at the buttons of his coat.
Mariah smiled politely while she waited for his humor to subside.
As his laughter died away, he wiped away some tears and took a shuddering breath. “My apologies, miss. It’s just that every time I think of my son sloggin’ through the mud, marchin’ back and forth, back and forth, I can’t help but laugh. He expected to be ridin’ off on his trusty steed like some modern-day Lancelot to right all wrongs. It never dawned on him that in carryin’ out his noble cause he might get dirty.” He chuckled lightly again, then stifled it. “But the boy’ll learn. My hope is that he’ll come back a man ready to take up his responsibilities.”
Mariah mulled over his words. “Did they, perchance, give you any idea of how long they’ll be gone?”
“I’m afraid the boys don’t know much at this point. But from what I gathered from a merchant friend of mine, most of the supplies the militia’s been waitin’ for have come in. I imagine they’ll be leavin’ soon.”
“How long do you suppose they’ll be out there?” Fearing the answer, she held her breath.
“That’s hard to tell. Depends on how deeply entrenched the French have got themselves.”
Mariah’s spirits sank. “Are you saying they might be gone more than a month or two?” That was the amount of time Colin had figured the trouble would last.
He shrugged his shoulders and grimaced. “Don’t be gettin’ yourself all worked up, missy. The French are a long way down from Canada, and with a force of at least a thousand strung out for a couple hundred miles, that puts ’em a fair distance from their supplies. They should be runnin’ out about now. It shouldn’t take much to send ’em packin’.”
Much as Mariah would have liked to believe that, doubts assailed her. “But wouldn’t the Indians give them—”
Mr. Tucker wagged his graying head, his leather-bound queue brushing across his back. “We’ve got trade agreements with most of the Indians. They won’t help the French. Now, stop your frettin’. And tell little Tori not to worry either. Worry causes lines in pretty faces.”
Mariah detested being treated like a brainless twit. Nevertheless, she smiled while waiting for Pansy to bring in the tea tray. The sooner the man was served, the sooner he’d leave, and she’d be able to read the letter from Colin.
Another long, uncertain week crept by after reading Colin’s disturbing note. According to him, Rose truly was deep in Indian country, but doing fine…or so the fur company proprietors had assured Colin, who considered the information further reason to remain with the militia. He vowed to rescue her sister if she was in danger. Mariah let out a weary sigh. Dear, brave Colin. Ever the hero.
Detecting a sound from outside, she rose from picking out a nonsensical tune on the harpsichord and meandered to the front window, where she spied the family’s landau coming up the lane! “Thank heavens!” She slapped her hands together.
Then reality returned, and she wasn’t sure whether to be glad or distressed. Having been in Baltimore these past weeks, they wouldn’t know that Colin had come and gone…along with Victoria’s Dennis Tucker. Possibly even Edward Rochester and the Fairchild lad who’d been coming to call. Hopefully someone along the road had informed the family of the trouble with the French so she wouldn’t have to be the bearer of the unwelcome news.
She headed for the foyer to retrieve her cloak.
Benjamin came from the kitchen just then, wearing a happy grin. “Ah hears da carriage a-comin’. It’s about time. We been lonesome aroun’ here.”
Always amazed at how much the slaves liked their masters—despite being owned by them—Mariah recalled that Geoffrey Scott had informed her that these slaves were Christians. Free in Christ, at least. She supposed that did take a measure of the sting away from being in bondage.
The tall African swung the door wide and stepped out to greet the arriving family and assist the women.
Mariah decided she could do no less.
Amy emerged first out the carriage door. “Mariah! We’re home!”
She couldn’t help laughing. “And so you are.”
Victoria stepped down next. “Has my brother gotten home yet? Has Tuck come by asking for me? Or maybe Steven Fairchild?” She cast a furtive glance back at her mother, as if the third young man’s name had been added to appease the woman.
Dread engulfed Mariah. The family knew nothing about the events taking place in the territory. “Let’s get inside out of the cold, and I’ll relay the latest happenings. First I’ll go and tell Eloise you’ve come home.”
“Yes, do that.” Assisted by the butler, Mistress Barclay stepped gracefully down from the carriage. “If possible, we’d like an early supper. It’s been a long and tiring day. Tell Eloise nothing special. Whatever’s handy will do.”
“Oh, and welcome home,” Mariah remembered to say. “We’ve missed you.” As she ran up the steps, she realized she actually meant those words. She truly had missed them—all of them—even the regal lady of the manor.
By the time she and Lizzie returned with a tea tray and a platter of small tea cakes and cookies, they found the weary family lounging in the parlor while Benjamin and the driver
carted the luggage into the foyer. There was no sense of alarm among the group, so obviously Benjamin hadn’t mentioned anything about Colin while she’d been in the kitchen.
Lizzie set the tea tray on the table and quietly took her leave. Mariah placed the cookies and cakes alongside. “Shall I pour?”
“Yes, please do.” The mistress fanned herself with a handkerchief. “It’s been a long, bumpy ride.”
“Has there been word as yet from Colin?” Mr. Barclay sat down next to his wife. “Since we were delayed so long in Baltimore, we surmised he’d be here by now to greet us.”
Just about to take her seat near the tea service, Mariah opted to remain standing. “Your son did, in fact, return home, sir. Three weeks ago. However, I’m sorry to report he was summoned to report for militia duty that same day.”
“You’re not serious!” His dark brows hiked high.
Mariah nodded. “Mr. Scott rode into Alexandria yesterday to check on them, and he was told the militia left for the Ohio Valley the previous day.”
“They did what?” Teacups rattled on the tray as Colin’s mother lunged forward. “Are you telling us that Colin left with the militia?”
“I’m afraid so, madam. He said he was duty bound to go with the militia and rout the French out of Virginia’s western territory.”
Mistress Barclay swung to her husband, a frantic expression contorting her face. “Eldon, you must go and fetch him home. He could get killed.”
“Colin’s gonna get killed?” Amy sprang to her feet.
Her mother turned toward the girls. “Go upstairs and change for dinner. At once.”
“But Mama!” Victoria protested.
“Now.” The mistress flicked a hand toward the door. “We’ll talk later, after we’ve heard all the details and have sorted them out.”
Watching the trio as they obeyed their mother, Mariah wished with every fiber of her being that she was going with them.
“Eldon, you must do something.” Twisting her handkerchief into a tight, untidy knot, Mistress Barclay swung her troubled gaze back to him.
“There’s nothing to be done, Cora, my dear. Colin has been on the militia roster since he turned sixteen. Surely you know that.”
“But it never meant anything,” she countered. “Just a bunch of young men strutting around the parade ground. Not leaving home and going off to start a war.”
He let out an exasperated breath. “Well, it means something now, I’m afraid. We’ve heard the reports about the French moving into English territory. It was only a matter of time until something had to be done about it. Call the girls back, and let’s have our tea. Mariah, would you pour now?”
“Surely, sir.” The worst was over. Emitting a tiny whoosh of relief, Mariah sat down and picked up the teapot.
Suddenly Colin’s mother shot a glare her way. “Why didn’t you stop him?” She grabbed Mariah’s hand. “You’re such a clever girl, and he’s so taken with you. I’m sure you could have used your feminine wiles to stop him from leaving.”
Stung by the woman’s vile insinuation, Mariah barely managed to set the hot china pot down before dropping it. “I tried, Mistress Barclay. I begged him not to go. Truly I did. But he insisted he had to go, that he was obligated. He would not be dissuaded.”
The woman came to her feet and loomed over Mariah, her face twisted, her hand raised, poised for a resounding slap. “You could have stopped him. You know you could have. If he gets killed it will be on your head. On your head! I want you out of my sight. Now!” She jabbed a manicured finger toward the door.
Chapter 21
Mariah’s stomach roiled. She stared at the supper Pansy sent up to her room that evening after Cora Barclay’s callous outburst. To think that after being so happy to have the family back home at last, she had been treated with such viciousness by her mistress. The woman had all but snarled as she berated Mariah for not preventing Colin from reporting to the militia. Why, a person would think she’d encouraged him to leave, when in truth, she’d begged him to stay.
Even more disturbing, his mother actually insinuated that Mariah should have used her womanly charms to induce him to remain at home—to sacrifice her greatest asset, her innocence. Highly unchristian of Mistress Barclay, indeed. Mariah grimaced.
Neither had the tirade been characteristic of the woman. Because of the grand hopes she held for her son, she had not been thrilled by an outsider’s sudden presence in the household. Nevertheless, the mistress had heretofore treated Mariah with courtesy during her stay. She’d never been mean-spirited. Leaving the tray of food untouched, Mariah changed into her night shift and climbed into bed, even though she knew she’d face a restless night with little sleep.
Rising early the next morning, Mariah tiptoed through Amy’s room without disturbing the sleeping child. Steeling herself to face her mistress—hopefully without an audience—she descended quietly. But inside she wondered if she was to be tossed out into the cold with no place to go until Colin returned.
At the bottom landing, she ran her fingers across her hidden amethyst ring. Perhaps if worse came to worse, and she was left to fend for herself, she might be able to sell a day gown or two to tide her over for a while. She still had more than two pounds sterling in her possession. Only as a last resort would she consider selling the beautiful ring.
She scarcely noticed the heat from the blazing fire while she traversed the parlor on her way to confront Colin’s mother. The slight clatter of china drifted to her ears from the dining room. Upon entering, she saw to her dismay that both elder Barclays sat at breakfast.
Mr. Barclay stood to his feet at once, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Good morning, child. I’d love to stay and chat, but alas, I have a full day ahead of me after having been gone so long.” Then, coward that he was, he made a hasty retreat before Mariah had the presence of mind to answer.
She held her breath and flicked a swift glance at his wife.
“Do fill your plate and come sit down. I have something to say.” The woman’s tone was suspiciously pleasant, but Mariah wasn’t sure if she’d caught a hint of warmth in those sable eyes.
About what? Mariah was sorely tempted to rail at her. That shrewish mouth of yours? But she refused to allow herself to act in a manner as unladylike as the uppity woman had displayed last night.
Despite not having eaten the previous evening, Mariah had little appetite. She chose a small serving of fruit and a buttered biscuit, then poured some tea and carried the items to the table, making certain an empty chair separated her from Mistress Barclay. She made a point of folding her hands and bowing her head in silent prayer. Father in heaven, help me to swallow down this food, and help me not to let her get the best of me. In Jesus’ name. Amen. She raised her head.
Colin’s mother set down her teacup. “Mariah, dear, I am…dreadfully sorry for my outburst yesterday. It was thoughtless and cruel. I should never have uttered such unkind words. I was overtired from our journey and not prepared to hear that we’d missed our son’s arrival and departure. Nevertheless, I should not have taken it out on you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Realizing her mouth had fallen open, Mariah closed it and raised her tea to her lips, hoping to block some of her surprise.
The mistress continued. “Colin has always been extremely stubborn when he believes he’s right. And as his father reminded me repeatedly, our son truly was obligated to report for duty.” She smiled and reached across the space between them, catching Mariah’s hand. “I beg you to forgive me for my ghastly behavior…please.”
Something about the way her ladyship looked at her combined with that tender touch of her hand brought sudden moisture to Mariah’s eyes. Until this moment she hadn’t realized how starved she’d been for a bit of motherly affection. “I—I—” Her throat closed up as she fought against an emotional display. But try as she might, she was powerless to stop the unexpected rush of tears. “I’m—Excuse me,” she blubbered betwee
n gasps as she blindly lurched up from her seat. “I—”
Mistress Barclay got up just as quickly. Coming to her side she drew Mariah close and patted her back. “No, dear. I’m the sorry one. I’ve been so obsessed with the notion of you spoiling my plans for my son, I haven’t considered you and all you’ve gone through since leaving your home in England.” She leaned back slightly and brushed aside a lock of hair from Mariah’s face. “You truly are a beautiful and talented young lady, and from now on, I plan to make more of an effort to see that you’re treated as such.”
Desperately trying to get her embarrassing sobs under control, Mariah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had Colin’s mother implied she would champion her? Inhaling a ragged breath, she stepped back, wiping her eyes as she attempted a grateful smile. “I’m better now. I don’t know what came over me.” With a small, self-conscious shrug, she returned to her seat, and the mistress did the same.
A quiet moment passed while Mariah fortified herself with a sip of tea. Setting down her cup, she met the older woman’s eyes. “Colin told me he was able to visit Bath while he was in England, and he brought me news of my family. I suppose it made me a bit lonesome for them, and a little homesick. I miss their gestures of affection. When you took my hand, I—” Another wave of feeling swamped her, and she drew another breath and fought off a new onslaught of tears. “Anyway, Colin accompanied my father to see a barrister about recovering the large sum he’s owed. He feels quite confident that Papa will be reimbursed.”
“I’m very pleased for you and your family.” Though spoken kindly, some of the warmth was missing from Mistress Barclay’s expression. “Colin went to call on your father, you say.”
Daughters of Harwood House Trilogy : Three Romances Tell the Saga of Sisters Sold into Indentured Service (9781630586140) Page 49