A Heart Set Free

by Janet S. Grunst

  They returned to the parlor, and Matthew Stewart urged the parson to proceed with the ceremony. The children were off gathering their belongings, leaving only the five adults standing in front of the hearth. The ceremony was quiet and quick, not at all what Heather had dreamed her wedding would be. She gazed down at the same filthy, green dress that was almost becoming a second skin, and wanted to cry. She never imagined this rag would be her wedding gown.

  Mr. Stewart shook the clergyman’s hand. “Thank you, sir, for coming on such little notice. May we take you home on our way out of town?”

  “No, thank you, Matthew. You are in a hurry. Besides, I want to stay and try to talk Maggie out of some of that apple pie I see over there. God’s blessings on you both.”

  Heather sat at the table, silent, numb, and emotionally drained. In a daze, she watched the activity all around her. While Maggie placed items in a basket, some of the children began carrying parcels to be loaded into the wagon. Mr. Northrop had settled into a Windsor chair in front of the hearth when Adam and Matthew left. There, in a corner, sat Mary, with damp, red, angry eyes. The girl was no more than nine or ten. Heather sympathized with the unhappy child. The recent events seemed out of her control as well.

  Maggie placed the basket in front of Heather. “I have put a few items in here you might be needin’ and may not have handy when you first get there.”

  The aroma of the freshly baked bread was intoxicating. She glanced at the round woman standing over her. “Thank you, ma’am. You have been kind and generous.”

  “We shall see each other again before too long. Adam and I pray you and Matthew will both find peace, Heather.”

  Heather smiled, took the basket and her satchel, and walked outside to the others. Was it peace she had experienced earlier or resignation? Would she ever have genuine peace?

  The Duncans said their good-byes and promised to see them soon. Adam helped Heather up to the seat in front and walked around the side of the wagon to Matthew Stewart. “Good-bye, friend, and remember, give it time.”

  With a slap to the horse’s back, they were on their way home.

  CHAPTER 5

  Heather grasped the side of her seat as they traveled the bumpy road. A brief glance confirmed that Mr. Stewart was focused on the path ahead. It mattered not. It was more interesting to observe Alexandria’s fine homes, buildings, and shops. This was so different from the centuries-old buildings and well-established neighborhoods of home, and she found it fascinating.

  They stopped briefly at a merchant’s shop to pick up some supplies. The shopkeeper was speechless when Mr. Stewart introduced her to him as his wife. The situation was as amusing as it was embarrassing.

  “Sir, you had not mentioned taking a wife.”

  Mr. Stewart briefly glanced her way, eyes wide, and cleared his throat. “Well, it uh, developed very suddenly this afternoon.”

  “Oh, I see.” The shopkeeper appeared even more perplexed. He smiled and nodded in her direction. “I offer you my best wishes ... Mrs. Stewart.”

  At that, Mr. Stewart nodded awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He tipped his hat. “Good day, Mr. Brady.”

  Before climbing back up on the wagon, Matthew Stewart glanced at her. “You might be more comfortable in back with the children. You can stretch out and rest your back against one of the sacks.”

  “Aye, I shall.” Was it that she had not bathed in months or her weary demeanor that brought on the suggestion? She stepped up into the back and seated herself amidst the parcels. Crowded with the bundles and children, she was spared his silence and their conversation, both quite awkward. At least she was no longer trapped in the hold of the Providence, with its misery, the smells, and the agonizing sounds. She tugged at the bodice of her dress and hoped the occasional breeze would relieve her of some of the clamminess and stench. Perhaps the odor offends him as much as it does me.

  Underway once again, she gazed back at the thriving city. When might they return? It was just her misfortune to be taken off into the wilderness by a farmer. So many uncertainties lay ahead. Now seated in the back of the wagon with the children, she tried to ignore their constant stares. The girl sat with her arms crossed, glaring. Well, it was better than sitting next to a stone-silent Matthew Stewart.

  The terrain was hilly, with many more trees and far fewer homes as they traveled west. As the dwellings became less frequent, she suddenly remembered stories she had read when she was a child about the natives in the Colonies. Her muscles tensed. The hair on her arms and neck rose on end. Some of the tales of the savages had been terrifying. Could there even be some nearby, perhaps in the woods? But surely Mr. Stewart would have mentioned if there was any danger. She relaxed again.

  The wagon continued along the well-traveled road. In the late afternoon, the sultry stillness broke when Matthew Stewart called to them over his shoulder. “It shall be a few hours before we are home. We should stretch our legs a bit. The horse needs some water so we will stop in a while. Until then, you might get some sleep.”

  “The wee ones’ heads are nodding as though they will drop off any time.”

  “No surprise—it has been a long day for all of us.”

  “Aye, that it has.” A long and bewildering day—and it was not over yet.

  She turned in the wagon to better see the direction they were traveling in and straightened the brim of her bonnet to shade the sunlight from her eyes. Mr. Stewart had purchased it for her when they stopped at the merchant’s shop. It was a nice gesture—and it hid her filthy hair, for which she was grateful.

  She glanced at the children, thankful that they had dropped off to sleep. While the wee lad had been cheerful and friendly, his sister was quite the opposite. Mary’s continual glare intimidated her. Sleeping, the girl appeared bonnier, with soft brown hair framing her face.

  Overwhelmed by the day’s events, Heather shook her head. Leaving the ship provided momentary relief. But that was cut short by the reality of being sold, wedded, and now heading into the woods. It had been an unbelievable day.

  Turning her head, she peered at the back of the man who purchased her and made her his wife. He carried himself well, more refined than his common clothing suggested. His appearance was not unpleasant—a tall chap, reserved, but too lean. There was a rugged but sad look about his face. What was most unsettling was his quiet, intense nature, which made him difficult to read.

  Matthew Stewart turned his head to address her. “This nag seems in no hurry to be back in her own pasture.”

  She shifted and turned toward him, her voice low so as not to disturb the children. “Thank you for the bonnet, Mr. Stewart, and for the chance to rest. I am tired.” When he did not respond to her remark, she shrugged and closed her eyes. The rhythmic motion of the wagon and the steady sound of the horse’s hooves made her drowsy. Sleep was inescapable. She leaned her head back on one of the sacks, only to be jarred awake a short while later when he brought the wagon to a stop.

  Matthew Stewart stepped down from the wagon. His voice, no more than a mumble, sounded irritated. “I cannot believe I was talked into purchasing you, Honey. You are not worth half of what I paid. The day will come when I will have to replace you with something a little younger and livelier.”

  Her stomach clenched, and she gasped. She was wrong to think the man was refined. If only she had the energy and courage to respond. Instead, she stewed, scratching her side where her filthy chemise irritated her skin.

  As he came around to the back of the wagon, he smiled at the sleeping children and then whispered to her, “It will be a couple more hours before we are home. I am going down to the creek over there to get some water for the nag. You may want to get out and have a drink yourself.”

  “No, thank you.” She refused the hand he offered in assistance. His bewildered expression did little to ease her irritation.

  Once they were underway again, she rested her head against one of the sacks and stared up at an almost cloudless sky. It
was not the first time she had misjudged someone’s character. He may not be the gentleman he was touted to be by his friends. Nay, other than her mother and Sara, the people she should have been able to trust had all disappointed her. Her mind traveled back to her mother, gone these many years. She sighed as she closed her eyes and surrendered to sleep.

  Faces from the past haunted her dreams. Her mother, a once beautiful woman, now wasted, was dying. Her father, his silver hair shining in the dim light, was seated on the bed, holding his wife’s hand in both of his. In all Heather’s twelve years, this was the first time she had ever seen her stoic father brought to tears. Their gentle voices moved her.

  “Angus, please go. I would speak to Heather now. Bring Ross and Eileen in when we are done, dear.” She was so weak.

  “Rachel, stay with us.” Her father leaned down and kissed his wife. He appeared reluctant to leave the room without that.

  Her mother’s pleading blue eyes brought a lump to her throat.

  “Heather, oh, Heather, I am depending on you so.”

  “Mama, hush. Do not try to talk. Please save your strength.” Fear pressed in on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

  “Heather, you must take care of them now. Your father cannot, and Ross will not. They all need motherin’, but mostly wee Eileen. Girl, you are so strong and carin’.” She squeezed her hand. “You will not fail me, lass? Promise me.”

  Her throat tight, she nodded affirmatively.

  Her mother’s voice was weakening as she motioned her to come nearer. “I am asking much of you, lass ... and they shall demand more. But they will need you, even if they show little appreciation. Your blessing may never be from them.” After a few shallow breaths, Mama waved her hand. “Bring the others.”

  With tears in her eyes, Heather leaned over and kissed the face she loved and tiptoed to the door to call her brother and sister.

  She would never know if Ross and Eileen’s time with their mother was also instructive, for within moments, the woman they all loved breathed her last.

  Heather shook. Or was she being shaken? “Aye? ... oh ... I ... I—”

  Mr. Stewart’s voice brought her back to the present. “You were thrashing and moaning. I feared perhaps you were taking ill. Are you sick?”

  Concern was written on his face. She remembered his recent comments. He thinks he made a bad bargain in purchasing a sickly servant. “Nay, you need not fret. I am not ill, Mr. Stewart. I suppose I was dreaming. Are we near your farm yet?”

  “Yes. We shall be there shortly.” The children began stirring and peering around.

  It was much darker now. How long had she slept? The children, fully awake now, were being playful yet somewhat shy in her presence. All around them were open fields or woods that stretched off in the distance. Revived after her nap, she took a deep breath, grateful again for being in the open and no longer in the hold of a ship. The woodland sounds and mild temperature appealed to her senses. It reminded her of the lowlands of Scotland, except that there was no noticeable breeze. It was different by far from the howling, chilly winds of the moors. Aye, it would take some time to get used to this new land.

  She repositioned herself again to see the trail better and glanced at the man she had just married and at the children who were now under her care. The course of her life had been dramatically altered in just hours, and nothing would ever be the same again.

  Matthew Stewart guided the wagon off the main road and onto a narrower path. The full moon lit up the sky, enabling her to still see a bit. There were fields to the right, woods to the left. Up ahead, she made out a small one-story clapboard frame dwelling nestled in among some tall trees. To one side of the cottage, a way off, was another larger structure that resembled a barn.

  Mr. Stewart finally pulled the wagon to a stop. “We are home, children. Home at last.” He sounded jubilant as he lowered himself from the wagon, went up the stairs, opened the door, and entered the house.

  Within minutes, she saw a light through the windows. He came back and lifted Mary and Mark down from the wagon.

  “Wait.” He handed them each a basket. “You can help carry things inside.”

  As the children cautiously followed their father into the cottage, she climbed from the wagon and trailed behind them, carrying her satchel and a basket.

  He had lit candles and an oil lantern, making the main room appear shadowy. Still standing in the doorway, she studied her new home.

  “Come in. Come in, Heather. I shall light another lantern and finish unloading the wagon. The animals can wait a few more minutes.”

  As her eyes adapted to the light, she noticed plastered walls, glass windows, and a wooden floor. It was warm and inviting, not as primitive as she had feared. There were blue cloth-covered cushions on the furniture around the hearth. Curtains framing the windows were of the same fabric. Close to where she was standing was a handsome oak table, a bench, and two ladder-back chairs. Several pieces of pewter, silver, and pottery lined the shelves of a hutch against the far wall. To her left, the kitchen area of the room had a cabinet and a small worktable under the window. It was surprising how tidy the house was when only a man had been in residence. And it was evident that a woman had at one time made this house a home.

  The children explored every inch of the cottage as if they had not been there in a very long time. Mr. Stewart opened shutters and windows to bring in some fresh air. The room was hot and had a stale smell from having been closed up.

  “Do you need help, Mr. Stewart?” She wanted to be useful.

  “No. Feel free to wander around and become familiar with the house while I go outside to unload the supplies.”

  As she stared at the door behind the departing man, she mumbled, “Feel free, he says. Fine words, considering the situation.”

  To the right of the front door was a ladder leading to a loft. Underneath it was a small alcove. The alcove, with its bare bunk, was probably where the wee ones had slept at one time. The children climbed the ladder leading to the loft.

  The young boy stepped on the first rung of the ladder.

  “Take care you do not fall off.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mark grinned while Mary’s eyes narrowed.

  Directly across from the front door and next to the sitting area was another room. Upon going through the door, she noticed a large frame bed with a quilted blue and white coverlet on it. A handsome wardrobe and an elegant claw-footed, high chest-on-chest of drawers suggested they had once been in a prosperous home. What had the woman who had occupied this cottage been like? Glancing at the bed again, she jumped back, clutched her bag to her chest, and withdrew from the room. When she turned, there was Mr. Stewart. “I ... um.” A warm tide rose to her face.

  “You are welcome to put your things in there, Heather.” He motioned to the room. “I see Maggie sent a basket. Would you see if there is something in there for Mary and Mark to eat? I will put their pallet back on their bunk so that they can sleep when they are finished eating. I will be in the barn and see to Honey and the animals, so you need not wait up if you are tired.”

  Honey? She covered her mouth with her free hand. Oh, my. Honey was the name of the horse. Perhaps it had not been her he had referred to earlier, but the horse. She shook her head.

  “Sir ...” She twisted the handle of the bag as her face grew warm.

  Matthew Stewart turned and waited for her to continue, his eyes searching hers.

  “Sir, you have not mentioned where you will be bedding down.” She was determined not to lower her eyes, though the urge to run, and even lose the contents of her stomach, weighed on her mind.

  He was still studying her when he responded, “I shall get my things and sleep in the loft.” When he reached the bedroom door, he turned. “Tonight.”

  Reprieve. But for how long? He had purchased her indenture to be his housekeeper and care for his children. It was likely that he would want his comfortable bed back after tonight, and she was more than a
greeable to take a pallet up to the loft and give him his room and privacy. She had no reason to think he fancied her.

  Heather removed her hat and placed it on the oak bench. She scratched through her matted hair. When she picked at her filthy garment, she laughed. He would have to be mad to find her desirable.

  Maggie Duncan had packed a bounty in the basket. Along with the freshly baked bread were some pickled vegetables and smoked meat. There were even some sticky sweet rolls with a spicy smell. Her mouth watered.

  She studied the two small faces eyeing her as well as the contents of the basket. “Come here and sit down for a bite to eat.” Mary and Mark hurried to the table, seeming to be quite at home again. She set out a wooden trencher of food and let them choose what they wanted to eat.

  After eating some of the bread and meat, Mark thumped his hand on the table. “I am so thirsty.”

  “Well, of course you are.” She placed two cups of water in front of the children.

  Mr. Stewart returned, carrying a small pitcher of milk. “George Whitcomb did the afternoon milking and left some in the springhouse. It is not cold, but fresh.” He smiled and seated himself at the table beside his children. His expression communicated pure pleasure as he looked from one child to the other. “It is so good to have you both home again. I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am.”

  “Me too, Papa.” Mary’s smile was disarming before it turned down in a frown as she glanced Heather’s way.

  Mr. Stewart got up from the table. “Now, it is off to bed with you two as soon as you are finished.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  He went back outside, and Heather helped Mark get into his nightclothes and listened as they said their prayers.

  When the children were tucked in their bed, she went back to the table to clean the dishes and finish unloading the basket. How will I manage to fit into this family? The girl already sees me as an intruder. She sighed. How would she have responded in Mary’s place? Perhaps the same. She would give her time. They were all tired and did not know each other yet.