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

by Crawford, Dianna; Laity, Sally

  Lily caught the hint of skepticism in the woman’s voice. “That is correct.”

  “Your family must have had an enormous reversal of fortune for you to be sold into bondage.” She took a dainty sip from her water goblet, looking quite pleased with herself.

  “Veronica.” Mistress Gilford silenced her daughter-in-law with an arch of the brow.

  “ ’Tis quite all right,” Lily replied. “I don’t mind answering.” She leveled a languid gaze at the impertinent young woman. “My father did not sell me. After he’d been swindled by an unscrupulous aristocrat, my eldest sister took it upon herself to pay our father’s debtors by selling our furniture as well as herself to a sea captain sailing for America. Though my father did all he could to cancel the contract, he was not successful. I did not want my sister to undertake such a journey alone, so I convinced him to allow me to sign on as well. Unfortunately, and contrary to the sea captain’s promise, we were separated and bonded to different individuals after we disembarked the ship. For some time now, another sister and my father have both offered to buy back my papers. But with Susan’s poor health to consider, I could not find it in my heart to leave her or the children.”

  “I see.” Veronica Gilford’s comment still sounded dubious as a maid set a plate of food before her.

  Lily retained her syrupy sweet tone. “Fact of the matter is, my term of indenturement ended weeks ago. When I leave here, I must decide whether to return to Beaver Cove to look after the older Waldon boys or travel on to my sister’s, as Susan’s husband urged. He fears for my safety as he does that of all his children. My sister, by the by, is wed to Colin Barclay, of Barclay Bay Plantation in Virginia. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. They are reputed to grow some of the finest quality tobacco in the colonies. Lovely mansion, and such restful grounds. I attended my sister’s wedding there not three years ago.”

  “You traveled while you were still indentured to the Waldons?” Veronica gave a snide half smile.

  “Quite right.” By now everyone had been served. Lily felt compelled to direct her next words to Susan’s mother. “Your daughter always treated me as if I were her little sister, a beloved member of the family. We became the very best of friends. I shall miss her sorely.”

  “That would be so like her.” Sadness filled Mistress Gilford’s eyes, and she lowered her lashes. “My greatest regret is that I was unable to be at her side when she needed me most.”

  Lily wished she’d have been seated near enough to the older woman to comfort her, but she had to rely on spoken words. “Susan understood. Truly. She asked me to send you her deepest love.” Lily hadn’t the heart to tell them their letter regarding the quarantine had arrived too late.

  Thankfully, Mr. Gilford changed the subject. “Shall we bow our heads?”

  As he led the family in prayer over the meal, Lily emitted a silent breath of relief. How very much she missed the simple, genuine folk of Beaver Cove.

  Chapter 14

  Riders comin’!”

  Standing in the long, slow line of militiamen waiting in the dusty compound for another tasteless supper of beans and cornbread, John glanced up to the watchtower, where the announcement had initiated.

  “Sure hope they’re bringin’ better food,” someone behind him muttered.

  “I hope they’re bringin’ good news,” Patrick MacBride said.

  A sarcastic chuckle issued from the back of the line. “Like the war’s over.”

  Pat nudged John. “We could use some news like that about now.”

  Within moments, a pair of frontiersmen rode into the fort and reined their mounts straight for headquarters. Neither wore a smile.

  John spotted Captain Busse buttoning his red jacket as he came out of his office. Still resentful of the officer, the sight of him filled John with rage. His eyes narrowed and his fingers dug into his wooden trencher.

  Stepping closer, Pat squeezed his shoulder. “You need to get past that, John.”

  “I’ve tried, believe me. I just can’t. Every time I see the man I’m reminded that I wasn’t there for my wife in her last hours because of him.”

  “Perhaps the Lord thought it more important for you to leave here at the perfect moment to save your daughter,” Pat said quietly. “Ever think of that?”

  John slid him a glare. “Yeah. The last time you mentioned it. But had I been home, Emma probably wouldn’t have gone to the Pattersons’ in the first place.”

  “Then again…” Pat shrugged. “She might have. You can’t keep tryin’ to second-guess what might have happened. You need to ask the Lord to help you forgive. That’s the only way you’re gonna find peace.” A gap opened in the line, and Pat moved forward, then turned back to John. “Pray about it.”

  Pray about it. If only it were that easy. John gave a bitter smirk. “Right now, the only thing I can think about is my boys. Matt and Luke are at home. Alone. Matt had a birthday this week. He’s only twelve. Just a kid.”

  “Aye.”

  “Another birthday I missed. And as much as I appreciate Lily and want her to be there for the boys, that may not happen. If she gives any serious thought to herself, she’ll go to her sister’s place in Virginia where she’ll be safe—and looked after, for a change. She’s carried far more responsibilities than any lass should have to bear, and for a family that isn’t even hers.”

  Reaching the serving table, John held out his trencher. After the unappetizing fare was plunked onto it, he and Pat found an empty wall to lean against.

  As he sat down with the stone wall cooling his back, the last rays of sunshine gilded the fort with golden light, reminding John of Lily the morning they parted. He’d never forget the pain in her face as she floated away in the canoe. The early morning sun glistened on the tears in her eyes. The memory made it hard for him to breathe whenever he thought of it. Of her. He was a first-class heel. His wife was barely cold in the grave, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Lily. What he really needed to pray about was for God to forgive his untoward thoughts.

  “And we ask Your blessin’ on our food an’ the rest of the evenin’, as well.”

  Becoming conscious of his friend’s voice, John added his own silent plea. Dear Lord, do what You will with me, but please don’t allow my children or Lily to suffer because of my unwillingness to forgive Captain Busse—or for my unholy thoughts about her.

  While Mr. Gilford, at the head of the table, offered a blessing for the food, Lily sent her own unspoken prayer heavenward. Father, for almost a fortnight, I’ve asked for Your guidance but have received no answer. Where would You have me go? Should I stay here with the little ones, go on to Mariah’s, or return to Beaver Cove? I need an answer. Please.

  She knew such a prayer was presumptuous, but what else could she do? There was no one to advise her, and she didn’t dare base her decision on her desire to see John again. That would be terribly wrong.

  Becoming aware of the scrape of soupspoons on china, Lily raised her head, realizing that the others had started to eat.

  Veronica Gilford’s cool gaze focused on her as the haughty woman daintily lifted a spoon to her mouth.

  Lily moistened her lips. Warren’s wife had been hostile from the moment Lily had entered the dining room. And though Lily had received an invitation from the elder Gilfords to stay on as the children’s governess, now that she’d met Susan’s older brother and his wife, she had no intention of subjecting herself to further snobbish treatment. When she’d visited the Barclay plantation, Mariah’s in-laws had treated her like family. Despite knowing she was a bond servant, they’d bestowed their love upon her.

  Warren’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “Father, you’ll never believe what I heard at the newspaper office today.”

  “Oh?” His father blotted his mouth on his napkin.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s wise to trust these so-called generals the Crown sends over from England. They haven’t the foggiest idea how to wage war in America.”

&nb
sp; “Get to the point, Warren. What happened?”

  Yes, Lily urged silently. Are John or his boys in danger?

  Warren gave a droll huff. “Remember that huge army that gathered in New York, heading up to Lake Champlain under General Ambercrombie? They were to retake Fort Ticonderoga and the lake.”

  Lily relaxed. He wasn’t talking about Pennsylvania.

  “There he was,” the younger man continued, “with all those men and all those cannons, going against a fort reported to be undermanned. And after dragging those fool cannons across that long distance to batter down the stone walls, he was so stupid he didn’t wait for them to be brought from the rear. Instead, Ambercrombie ordered a frontal assault. Sent thousands of foot soldiers—mostly New Hampshire militiamen—with nothing but muskets to charge a stone fortification with a battery of cannons pointed at them.”

  Mr. Gilford leaned forward, his hands gripping the table edge. “What was the idiot thinking?”

  Warren’s voice took on a bitter note. “After eighteen hundred colonial men were senselessly slaughtered, not British regulars, mind you, the general panicked and ordered a hasty retreat, leaving those unused cannons behind.”

  Stunned, Lily stared in disbelief. Eighteen hundred men. Thank the Lord John was stationed farther south, under the general command of a more sensible officer, Colonel Weiser, who was in charge of the string of forts in Pennsylvania. If such mishandling were to continue, all the backcountry could be lost to the French. No wonder John had been so adamant about her and the children leaving. Perhaps this was God’s answer. She should travel on to Mariah’s.

  “Warren, darling,” Veronica said, slightly agitated. “You must have a talk with Warren Junior. Before we left home”—she switched her attention to her mother-in-law—“I overheard him tell his friend Willy he’s going to run off to join the militia the day he turns fifteen.”

  “Oh, la,” Mistress Gilford commiserated.

  Lily remembered that Warren and his wife had two lads older than Matt and Luke.

  Veronica returned her attention to her husband. “I’ll not have any sons of mine slaughtered over some backwoods territorial nonsense.”

  “Yes, dear. We’ve already discussed this at length.” Warren switched his gaze to Lily. “We were disappointed you hadn’t brought Susan’s older sons with you. I’d like to have met my nephews.”

  She angled her head and shrugged. “They refused to come, and it was hard for their father to argue with them so soon after…” She chose not to mention the recent death. “Both Susan and John always impressed upon the boys that their future was there on the land.”

  “Nonsense.” Mr. Gilford shook his head. “We could easily bring them into our business.”

  Warren flashed a stern glance at his father before turning again to Lily with a benign smile. “Yes. I’m certain we could find work for them at the brickyard, stacking and loading. Perhaps making deliveries.”

  Lily fully understood the young man’s look of disapproval. Warren’s sons were in line to inherit the business, and he didn’t want them to have any competition. His wife, of course, would be of the same mind. No wayward sister’s offspring would get in the way of their children’s inheritance.

  Matthew and Luke, young as they were, had been right to remain on their land. Hopefully, General Ambercrombie would soon be replaced by a more competent commander, and the farmstead she and the Waldons had worked so hard to develop would once again be secure. Instead of a lifetime of stacking someone else’s bricks, the boys would one day be making beautiful furniture with their father, furniture to grace all the homes that would be sprinkled throughout the Susquehanna and Swatara Valleys in years to come.

  The Lord’s direction suddenly became crystal clear, and a peace flowed through her. She would go back to Beaver Cove. If she didn’t, Matt and Luke might find staying at the farm too difficult, too lonely. They might give up and come to Philadelphia only to labor in some lowly position for their uncle.

  Her boys needed her there to cook and wash, to help bring in the harvest. And for their future, they needed her to give them their schooling. Her own future would have to wait.

  “Peaches should be ripening at my place about now.” With a sigh, John picked up his pewter cup and washed down the last of his cornbread with weak tea. The thought of the plump, sweet fruit on his tongue caused him to yearn for juicy peaches smothered in rich cream and honey. He hadn’t enjoyed such a delicious treat in ages.

  “Aye.” Pat shifted his weight against the stone wall. “My ma makes mouth-waterin’ peach pie. What I’d give for a hunk of that now.”

  “Or maybe I’d have them sliced thin over a sweet biscuit. Lily makes biscuits lighter than air.” John closed his eyes, envisioning the delectable golden brown scones hot from the dutch oven.

  Abruptly, Pat elbowed him and motioned with his head. “Looks like we got company. Them two long hunters that rode in a couple a minutes ago are comin’ straight for us.”

  John groaned and turned his attention toward the approaching frontiersmen. Surely Captain Busse wasn’t sending him and Pat out roving again! They’d just come in from scouting this afternoon.

  Blast it all! The woodsy pair didn’t veer off anywhere but stopped right in front of him and Pat.

  “One of you happen to be John Waldon?” The larger of the two, a strapping figure with dark brown hair beneath a coonskin cap, nodded in greeting. Merry hazel eyes flicked from John to Pat and back.

  Already harboring considerable anger toward Busse, John didn’t bother to get up. He responded in a flat tone. “That’s me.”

  The man dismounted and stretched out a hand. “Well now. I’m plumb pleased to finally meet up with you, man. Nate Kinyon, husband to Rose Harwood.”

  “You don’t say!” Breaking into a grin, John put down his trencher and grasped Kinyon’s huge hand. “Glad to meet you—and to know you’ve still got your hair.”

  A chuckle rumbled from the man’s chest. “Same here.”

  Belatedly, John remembered his manners. “Pat, I’d like you to meet Lily’s brother-in-law. He lives to the south of us, along the Potomac River.”

  They exchanged nods, and Kinyon gestured toward his companion, whose darker complexion and almost black eyes hinted at possible Indian heritage. “This here’s my partner, Bob Bloom.”

  The man swung down from his tall black horse.

  At the conclusion of greetings, handshakes, and light banter, Pat left the group to fetch food for the visitors.

  John met Nate’s gaze. “So, how are Rose and your little ones?”

  The smile evaporated from Kinyon’s face. “Sorry to say, Bob an’ me ain’t seen our families since the thaw.”

  His partner spoke up. “An’ if a serious offensive ain’t mounted against Fort Duquesne soon, I ain’t gonna be signin’ on again, neither.”

  “I feel the same way,” John agreed. “I can’t believe nothing’s been done about that French fort. The Indians attacking the Pennsylvania frontier come from there.”

  “Down along the Potomac and Maryland’s backcountry, too,” Kinyon supplied. “The French are givin’ ’em presents hand over fist to keep ’em fightin’ us.”

  “So I heard.” John wagged his head. “They’ve been ravaging west of the Susquehanna for more than two years now. Not so much our side, though. I thank God every day I settled to the east. I expect you’ve heard what happened to the folks over near Fort Granville last year.”

  “Aye.” Bob Bloom flipped a long braid over his shoulder. “The best the governor of Maryland has managed is to build a fort a bit west of our farm. They finally finished it this year.”

  “Your people do know not to surrender, right?” John asked.

  Kinyon’s expression turned grave. “Sure hope so. Better a quick death than one at the hands of them Shawnee, with them bone-chillin’ torturous habits of theirs.”

  “I thought you boys were with the Virginia militia.”

  “We are, but we
live on the Maryland side of the river.”

  “What brings you to our neighborhood?”

  “Me an’ Bob come across the tracks of a sizable war party headin’ this way, so we followed ’em. Before they got to the Susquehanna, though, they turned north. We figgered they was gonna cross somewheres above Fort Augusta, so we cut across to give fair warnin’ to you folks here before headin’ up to Augusta. We suspected they’d try to bypass that fort an’ go east along Blue Mountain, then sneak down through the Swatara Hole, where the creek cuts through. Raise havoc down the Schuylkill River.”

  “You two must be the ones who brought the news by a couple weeks back.”

  “Aye.” Kinyon nodded. “But we got to Augusta too late. Instead of stayin’ together, the Indians split up into smaller parties an’ headed in different directions. Folks in Berks County got attacked. That ain’t far from Reading.”

  “We heard about that.” Pat walked up with trenchers of food for the longhunters. “They say that last week Indians caught some children outside at one of them German settlements an’ hacked ’em to death.” He handed the men the victuals, then dropped down beside them with a troubled frown.

  “At another place,” John added, “families staying at one house while their men were out picking fruit were set upon by Indians. The women put up a fight, but before their men could get to them, three of the children were carried off.”

  “Speakin’ of kids bein’ snatched away,” Pat piped in, “same thing happened to John’s Emma an’ another little girl from Beaver Cove. But thank the good Lord, the men were able to catch up to them red devils an’ get their daughters back.”

  Nate paused in eating, and his dark brows rose in alarm. “Your Emma? What about Lily an’ the rest of your family?”

  Even though he’d surmised the subject would eventually turn to his family, it was still difficult for John to speak about them. He exhaled a breath. “Emma had gone to our neighbors, the Pattersons, to spend the night at their place when some Indian braves grabbed her. I was on my way home for my wife’s funeral when we crossed paths with men going after Emmy and the Patterson girl. Thankfully, the Lord led us to them before the little ones were hurt too bad.”