Chapter 6
Susanna was up to her chin in lavender-scented bubbles, luxuriating in her first full bath since she had left England, when Corliss returned from downstairs with clean towels and an unexpected message from Adam.
“Mr. Thornton says he has time this morning to show you the rest of the plantation, Miss Camille. What do you want me to tell him? He’s waiting in the library.”
The tranquility of her bath spoiled by this intrusion, Susanna bit off a tart response as she glanced at the mantel clock.
Only half past eight! He had a lot of gall to bother her so early. Clearly he was eager to begin their courtship, which made her all the more eager to frustrate him. She wanted to spend no more time with him than was absolutely necessary to maintain her illusion of welcoming his advances, no matter what she had said to him last evening about seeing more of the plantation. That statement had been merely for the servant’s benefit. She could bloody well explore Briarwood on her own.
“Kindly tell Mr. Thornton that I won’t be ready for at least another two hours,” Susanna instructed, swept by a heady sense of mischief. “Perhaps we should wait until another day. I know how busy he must be. I don’t want to keep him from his work. But please thank him, Corliss, for his gracious offer.”
“Yes, Miss Camille.”
As the maid set the towels on a low table pulled close to the tub and left the room, Susanna smiled to herself.
Adam had said that they had time for a proper courting, she thought, playfully flicking bubbles with her toes. It was her intention to make this the longest and most secretive courtship on record, at least until she had decided upon the man she really wanted.
The overbearing, overconfident lout! She still couldn’t believe how easily she had deceived him and how readily he had accepted her conditions to his preposterous proposal, especially the one about their courtship remaining a secret. She didn’t want anyone—especially the servants—to know that there was anything between her and Adam; her reputation truly was at stake. She had no intention of jeopardizing her chances of marrying the right man by having Camille’s good name sullied in any way.
In the letters Camille had shared with her, Mr. Cary had claimed Adam was intelligent, but he was a total fool when it came to women, Susanna decided. He truly believed that she would consider him as a potential husband. Had he no sense of what was proper? Why, it would be as if she, a lady’s maid, had come to Briarwood with the intention of marrying a wealthy planter’s son. Impossible! Absurd! It simply wasn’t done!
Susanna shrugged, at a complete loss, and concentrated upon soaping her arm with long, languorous strokes.
If and when Adam realized her true intentions, it would be too late. He would find himself without an heiress and without his bloody job!
“Miss Camille, Mr. Thornton says he’ll come back to the house in two hours to fetch you,” Corliss relayed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “He said it would be no trouble at all. He left his day free just so he could show you around.”
Hearing this, Susanna was tempted to fling the bar of soap across the room, but she let it sink to the bottom of the tub instead. Disgruntled that her plan to avoid him had failed, she leaned her head against the rim and defiantly closed her eyes.
Very well, then, the bastard. If he was going to be so persistent, she would make him wait even longer for her company.
She dawdled in the tub until her skin was thoroughly pink and puckered—explaining to a curious Corliss that she hadn’t enjoyed a real bath in ages—then she dallied in her room long after she had dressed in a burgundy riding habit, eaten her breakfast, and sent Corliss away, saying she wanted to read for a while. Instead she re-hid Camille’s portrait, taking the rolled canvas from the writing table drawer where she had put it last night—and none too soon since Corliss had come upstairs soon afterward to finish unpacking her trunks—and placing it in a large oval hatbox in which she had fashioned a false bottom. It would have to do until she knew the house well enough to find an even safer place.
Finally, when the clock read exactly eleven-thirty and she was beginning to feel restless, Susanna left her room.
She was not surprised to find Adam waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a black riding coat and snug-fitting buckskin breeches which emphasized the shape of his powerful thighs. His gaze swept her appraisingly from head to toe, then his eyes caught and held hers as she descended. She felt a nervous rush of excitement, unexpected and disturbing. She wished he wasn’t so intensely masculine. She would have to keep her wits about her in her dealings with this man. He seemed to have the ability to make her feel very strange inside. Quite unlike herself.
“Please forgive my tardiness, Mr. Thornton,” she said with mock sincerity, noting the tightness of his smile. It revealed his impatience, although his posture appeared relaxed, leaning as he was against the polished balustrade with his arms crossed over his chest. She felt a small sense of triumph. “I was reading and … well, I lost track of the time.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Cary,” he replied with a husky emphasis on her name. “All that matters now is that you are here. I trust you slept well last night?”
“Yes, I did.” In truth, she hadn’t, her slumber disrupted by a vivid and familiar nightmare that had left her sweat-soaked and shaken, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “And you?”
“Actually, my thoughts would not let me sleep until very late,” he said, the words laced with innuendo. “Yesterday was a very momentous day … for both of us.”
“Please, Mr. Thornton,” Susanna whispered, doing her best not to show too much irritation at his thinly disguised breach as her eyes darted to the young footman seated by the door. “We agreed…”
“I haven’t forgotten, Miss Cary,” Adam said quietly. “I haven’t forgotten.” As if to reinforce his words, he didn’t offer to take her arm as he had the night before, but merely inclined his head. “I have a great deal to show you today, and it’s almost noon. Shall we get started?”
Nodding, Susanna said nothing more except for a soft greeting to the footman, a mere boy, who grinned broadly as he jumped up from his chair and opened the door for them. Her irritation was quickly replaced by enthusiasm at the bright sunny day which greeted her, and again she reveled in the fact that she was no longer aboard a confining ship but possessed the freedom to roam where she pleased.
As she walked with Adam to the circular drive where stable hands waited with two spirited mounts, one of them the same chestnut stallion she had seen yesterday, she was glad that Lady Redmayne had allowed her to learn to ride so that she might accompany Camille on occasional jaunts around the estate. Competent, assured horsemanship would have been nearly impossible to feign.
“What a beautiful animal,” she murmured, stepping closer to pat the mare’s snow-white neck.
“Yes, Arabian bloodlines. The Cary stable has some of the finest steeds in Virginia.”
As if in firm agreement with Adam’s remark, the pretty mare nickered and tossed its finely shaped head, then stamped its hoof impatiently.
“She seems most eager for us to be on our way.”
“Has been for an hour now,” Adam said lightly, his face inscrutable. “If you would allow me …”
Susanna gasped softly as his strong hands encompassed her waist and he lifted her as easily into the sidesaddle as if she weighed no more than a child. He did not readily release her; instead, his fingers gently caressed her back.
“Are you well-settled, Miss Cary?” he inquired, a slow smile tugging at his lips.
“I am, thank you,” she replied, unnerved by both his touch and the almost conspiratorial look in his eyes, which seemed to say that yes indeed, they shared a wonderful little secret.
Despite her response, Adam held her for an instant longer, which further flustered Susanna, her skin feeling very warm beneath the weight of his hands. Then he abruptly let go of her and mounted his stallion. S
he was not pleased to discover that her fingers were shaking as she tied the ribbons on her wide-brimmed riding hat beneath her chin.
“I’ll show you the outbuildings first, then we’ll ride out to the fields,” Adam said, his tone becoming suitably deferential, as if to reassure her that their secret was safe with him. “If you have any questions, Miss Cary, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He fastened the large buckle on the full saddlebag behind his left thigh, then added, “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of canceling dinner. We won’t be back by three.” He patted the saddlebag. “Prue packed us some food, so have no fear that you’ll go hungry.”
Susanna didn’t reply, but nudged the frisky mare into a trot beside his much larger mount.
Just you wait, Mr. Adam Thornton, she fumed, thinking ahead to that happy day when she could tell him exactly what she thought about him and his courtship and his ordering of her life. Just you wait!
They had ridden a short distance from the house when Adam pulled up on the reins and waited for her to halt beside him. He pointed to a large one-story building not far from the river which was almost hidden by towering trees.
“The laundry,” he explained. “There are three other main buildings beside this one, each standing ninety yards from a corner of the house to form a square. The guest house” —he indicated the brick building opposite, a smaller version of the mansion yet with a one-story addition in the rear that had a white-painted roof— “with the new schoolhouse behind it, while on the other side of the house you’ll find the coach house and stable.”
“Schoolhouse?” she asked.
“It was to have been a surprise. Your father had it built last summer for his future grandchildren.”
“Oh.” Susanna didn’t appreciate the way he was looking at her, her cheeks growing warm as she imagined the unseemly thoughts passing through his mind. She was glad that there were servants bustling about on their various tasks, so he wouldn’t dare voice any of them. Wishing to change the uncomfortable subject altogether, she turned her attention to the cluster of smaller outbuildings standing within the triangle formed by the guest house and laundry. “And those?”
“Bake house, some storehouses, the dairy, well house, spinning house, smokehouse, kitchen, house servants’ quarters—”
“A kitchen?” How unusual, Susanna thought, realizing that she had assumed the kitchen was attached to the house, as at the Redmaynes’. “In England, it’s part of the house.”
“As I told you yesterday, things are done differently in Virginia,” Adam replied. “Planters design their homes for elegance and beauty, which is what your grandfather did when he built Briarwood. The interior is devoted to rooms where the planter and his family engage in pursuits that are proper to their station. Cooking is not among them. Prue and her kitchen maids carry all the food to the house.”
No wonder Lady Redmayne had often told Camille that when she arrived in Virginia, her main purpose would be to serve as a decoration for society, Susanna thought as they set out again, walking the horses carefully through the riverfront garden. With all the rooms dedicated to leisure, there wasn’t anything practical for the mistress of the house to do… well, other than have babies. That would keep her busy for a while, but of course, a nurse or two would doubtless be employed to help out.
Suddenly disliking the picture of life she conjured in her mind, Susanna decided then and there that she would change things to better suit her. She wouldn’t be able to stand such an idle existence for long, especially since she would never be one to while away the hours doing needlepoint or practicing an instrument in the music room. After she was married, she would take an active part in the life at Briarwood, even if it meant she must usurp some of Ertha’s managerial tasks. Surely she could maintain the appearance of leisure required of planters’ wives yet keep busy.
“As you can see on this side of the house,” Adam continued, “there area number of buildings between the coach house and stable—the wheelwright, blacksmith shop, a carpenter shop, shoemaker, distillery, and so on, while located further back are quarters for the servants who perform these jobs and other outdoor tasks. There’s also a barn behind the stable, and upriver a short way, the Cary mill.”
“There’s so much here,” Susanna said, astounded. “In England, we would just go into town for many of these things. “
“The towns in Virginia are too far apart and even if they weren’t, planters tend to be self-sufficient. They’d rather have their, own craftsmen than rely on outsiders for what they need.”
“Papa was like that,” she replied, looking down at the braided reins in her hands. It was still difficult for her to call Mr. Cary by such a familiar name. “Independent, I mean.”
“Yes, he was,” Adam said, his voice sounding so hollow and distant that Susanna, startled, glanced at him. He was staring toward a thick copse of elm trees that stood well beyond the coach house close to the river.
“What’s down there?” she asked, wondering at his sudden change of mood. She could tell he was upset, but why? She drew in her breath when he turned to look at her, his face set as in stone, his expressive brown eyes revealing turmoil … and something else. Pain.
“The Cary family graveyard.”
Susanna’s widened gaze flew to the circle of trees, then back to Adam.
“You know,” he continued, “it’s easy to see that you remember next to nothing about this place. Yet for some reason, I would have thought you knew where the graveyard was located.”
He was right, Susanna thought, stunned by his statement and even more by the naked emotion in his eyes. Camille probably would have known about the graveyard, but it wasn’t something they had ever discussed. She fumbled for a convincing reply.
“Captain Keyes told me Papa was buried next to my mother in the family cemetery, but that was all. He said nothing about it being near the York, or within sight of the house, and … and Papa never really spoke of the graveyard, probably because he lost my mother so young—”
“Camille, you don’t owe me an explanation,” Adam broke in quietly, his expression somber as he studied her flushed face. She could see that whatever had so troubled him only a moment ago had subsided, his emotions once again tightly under control. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to say. I’m sorry.” He paused, a heavy silence falling between them, then asked gently, “Do you want to go down there?”
“No … not right now,” she said, her heart thudding against her breast. She had never felt less like Camille and more like an impostor than in that moment. “Maybe later. When I’m alone.”
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. “Come on, then. I’ve a lot more to show you. If you think the grounds around the house are impressive, wait until you see the rest of Briarwood.”
Following his lead, Susanna kicked her mount into a gallop, thinking a good, hard ride was exactly what she needed. Anything to escape how miserable she felt right now.
***
Susanna was relieved when they finally slowed their pace a few hours later, not so much because she was tired but because she was hungry.
She had become embarrassed no more than twenty minutes ago when, as she was being introduced to Josiah Skinner, one of Briarwood’s head overseers, a discernible grumbling had sounded from her stomach. Adam and Josiah had both pretended they heard nothing, continuing their discussion about the overseer who had been fired the day before, but she knew that Adam had heard when he smilingly suggested a few moments later that they find a comfortable spot to have dinner. Now, as they approached a small freshwater pond lined with enchanting weeping willows, Adam slowing his stallion’s powerful stride to a trot, she guessed he had finally found that special site.
“How does this look?” he asked, surprising her that he would seek her approval when he seemed to have already made up his mind. She was tempted to say that she hated willow trees, which she really didn’t, just to see if he was willing to act the gentleman and take her elsewhere, b
ut she decided she was too hungry to test him.
“Lovely.”
“I thought you would think so. It’s a favorite place of mine.”
Now she wished that she had said it, Susanna thought with renewed irritation as she halted her mare a few yards from the pond in the cool shade of a giant willow. He seemed so bloody sure of her and her reactions.
“Let me help you,” Adam said, dismounting quickly and reaching up to lift her to the ground, as he had done all day during their tour of various sites on the plantation. She had decided earlier to allow him to play his game of gallant instead of jumping down by herself, as she was accustomed to doing, but this time was different as he finished his offer by adding “… my love.”
Liar! You don’t love me, Susanna fumed silently as his strong hands easily spanned her waist. All you love is my wealth. Camille’s wealth. You don’t care about anything but your own ambition. Your own greed.
Yet her agitation quickly turned to alarm when he slowly slid her down the hard, muscular length of his body before setting her upon the ground. He held her closely, too close, staring deeply into her eyes, and she tensed, again afraid that he was going to kiss her. When she cast down her eyes to thwart him, he gently nudged up her chin, his other hand stroking her lower back.
“You’re trembling, Camille. Why? No one will see us here. We’re finally alone.”
Susanna tried to control her racing senses. That’s exactly what she was afraid of!
“You don’t have to be so shy with me, my love,” Adam continued, his tone husky and soothing. “We’re courting now, remember? Men and women usually embrace when they like each other. When they want to be near each other. You can’t tell me you didn’t read about such things in those romantic books of yours.”
I don’t like you! Susanna screamed in her mind, though from the strange feelings enveloping her it seemed her body possessed an entirely different viewpoint. Reason told her to pull away, to feign insult and dismay, as any gently bred young woman would do if entrapped by an overzealous suitor. But her senses cried out for her to draw even closer to his compelling warmth, to enjoy the stirring sensations his touch aroused in her.
Defiant Impostor Page 9