Within the hour, the children came out of the bedroom, bored with their game and hungry. Matthew came through the door as she was readying the table for the meal.
“Heather, have we enough to feed an extra mouth?” He lowered the water gourd from his mouth.
Dread filled her. “Aye, sir.” She bit her lip when she saw the sinister man fill the doorway.
“This is Travis Thorpe. I have taken him on to help around here for the rest of the planting and harvest.”
A foreboding filled her as she nodded in the stranger’s direction.
“Well, man, join us for dinner. After that, you can go to the barn. You will find plenty of room there to bunk.”
Why was Matthew not put off by such an unpleasant individual? She shuddered and avoided eye contact with Thorpe, wanting to ignore his menacing demeanor and acrid odor. At least he would be staying in the barn. Surely he would not always take his meals with them. She joined the others at the table.
The meal was unusually silent. The children did little more than stare at the repulsive intruder.
“Good vittles, ma’am.” Thorpe’s grin made her stomach knot up.
When the man departed, Heather cleared the dishes away, only to cry out in alarm when a noise startled her.
“My, but you are jumpy today.” Matthew had a puzzled expression on his face.
“That man.” She peered around Matthew to make sure they were alone and kept her voice low. “He is, well, very odd. Did you see the way he ate? And he smells terrible. Must he come in the house?”
At first, Matthew seemed annoyed. Then an emerging smile turned to a laugh. “Heather, you sound like Mary. I came back for a towel and a quilt so the man can wash and make a bed for himself.” His eyes twinkled. “Perhaps I should offer him some violet soap.”
Shamefaced and silent, she gathered the requested items from the chest-on-chest and handed them to him. She certainly was never as disgusting as that Thorpe fellow.
He chuckled again as he took them. “It would seem that I have a propensity to take in weary strangers badly in need of feeding and bathing.”
Not amused by the comparison, she retreated to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She was still uneasy about the stranger. Am I being uncharitable? One of them was wrong about that man, and she hoped, for all their sakes, that it was her.
She gazed out the window to the leaves on the maple tree swaying in the breeze, and after a few minutes began to relax. Still offended by Matthew’s comment, she did see some of the irony in the situation. There was no comparison with the Thorpe fellow, for he was a free man, able to leave when he wanted, while she was a bondservant.
As time went by, Travis Thorpe did little to change her initial impression of him. Aye, he was a bit cleaner—at least he did not smell quite as bad as before—but he still had an undeniable aura of malevolence about him. For the most part, he remained outside of the house, but on occasion, Matthew would invite him to join the family for a meal. When Matthew wasn’t observing, the man leered at her in a way that made her skin crawl.
One afternoon when Heather was preparing their meal, she set the kettle of stew on the table and went to the sideboard to gather the plates. Glancing out the window, she spotted Travis resting the pitchfork beside the barn door before entering. In one fluid motion, she grasped one of the plates, dished up some of the stew, and grabbed a biscuit before briskly walking outside with it in the direction of the barn. This should avoid having him join us.
It was dark inside without the lantern lit or the windows on the opposite side of the barn open. She turned at the sound of straw being crushed near one of the stalls.
“Mr. Thorpe.” She called out to him when she spotted him opening a sack in a corner. “I suspected you might be ready for your dinner, so I brought it out here for you.”
He glanced up. “Why, Mrs. Stewart, that is very good of you to trouble yourself by bringing me my food.” A leer formed on his face as he walked toward her.
She hesitated. “No trouble at all, Mr. Thorpe.” She shuddered, turned, and placed the dish and biscuit on a crate nearby. When she turned to leave, she jumped. Thorpe had moved around the barn, and he was now blocking the entrance. The dim light in the barn made his figure against the lit doorway appear dark and menacing.
How was she to get by him? Panic seized her, but she still had her voice. “Kindly move and let me pass.” She hoped she sounded in control and unafraid. She was neither.
Thorpe moved toward her.
Run or stand her ground? Why let this surly, brutish man intimidate her?
“For you, ma’am, anything.” He moved aside, but not so much that it kept him from brushing up against her as she left. Disgusted, she jerked her arm away from his touch.
Her chin up and shoulders back, she walked out of the barn and back toward the house with as much dignity as her shaking knees and labored breathing allowed. She was both repulsed by the encounter and relieved to reach the safety of the cottage. All in all, this service was a small price to pay to avoid his presence at their table.
The sound of Mary and Mark squabbling poured out the window as she approached the cottage. Inside, she spent several minutes trying to get Mary to stop teasing and fighting with Mark. “Mary, if you cannot stop taunting your brother, you need to go sit on your pallet alone for a few minutes.”
Mary turned to her. “You are not my mother, and you cannot tell me what to do.”
The young girl’s smug attitude was infuriating. “Go to your pallet and stay there. I am not going to tolerate your insolent ways any longer. Do you understand?”
Mary stood her ground for a moment. With her arms crossed against her chest, she turned and went to her bed. “I am going because I want to, not because you told me to.”
“Wonderful.” She returned to kneading the dough for the bread she was making and tried to quell her frustration. “It is remarkable. Mary is Eileen all over again.”
“Who is Eileen?” Matthew asked as he entered the cottage. “What has gotten you so upset?”
“I did not hear you come in. It is Mary. She has been tormenting Mark and was disrespectful to me, so I sent her to ponder her attitude.” She glanced at him. Had she overstepped her bounds?
“And Eileen is—”
“My sister. Eileen was much younger, and I was charged to raise her. She was very headstrong and did not respect my authority.” She gazed into his eyes, hoping he would not question her further.
“Do not fret. Mary is long overdue in being chastened for her behavior.” He walked to the table where the iron pot was sitting and lifted the lid. “Mmm, smells good, but I need to wash before supper.”
He turned to Mark, now at his leg. “Would you like to go down to the pond with me to wash up?”
“Oh, yes, Papa.”
Heather sat at the table, trying to regain her composure. The encounters with Thorpe and Mary had left her nerves on edge. Matthew and Mark would be back soon, and she did not need questions she did not want to answer. She put the plates of stew on the table. They returned, teasing and laughing, obviously in high spirits. During all the commotion, Mary came to the table, careful to avoid her gaze, but joining in on the others’ fun.
After Matthew offered the blessing, he nodded at her. “Shall I ask Mr. Thorpe to join us?”
“Nay.” She was a bit too quick, causing the other three at the table to stare in surprise. “I mean—I—I took him his meal.” She sat down, shaking. Unable to eat, she moved her food around in her bowl, not joining in the cheerful banter the others shared.
Matthew appeared to be stifling a smile. “Did I mention that I invited Mr. Thorpe to join us for Sunday services tomorrow?”
Her eyes flashed, and her stomach clenched. “You did?”
“Yes, but he suggested that he would rather not.” Matthew’s look hinted he was waiting for her response.
“Hmm. Well, we certainly would not want to impose on him.”
Matthe
w took some bread and passed the plate to her. “Perhaps he will join us another time.”
Heather just stared at him.
When the meal was over and the dishes cleaned, she excused herself and went to bed. The night was warm. Any other night, she would have enjoyed the fresh air from the open window, but it faced the barn, and tonight she chose to keep it closed.
CHAPTER 12
Afew days later, having finished preserving some blackberries, Heather wiped the perspiration from her brow and removed her apron. “Mary, would you please get a jug of water? When I finish packing the basket, we can take dinner to your father and Mr. Thorpe. Mark, you can carry the blanket. They are sowing wheat in the west field.”
Mary shrugged her shoulders, picked up the jug, and took it outside to fill.
Even with the longer summer days, and the added help of Travis Thorpe, Matthew spent little time with the children. She and the children took dinner to the men wherever he and Thorpe were working.
Her lips pursed. She was intent to ignore Travis Thorpe’s coarse manners during their meal. Why, in spite of her deliberate attempts to avoid him, did he take such an inordinate delight in engaging her in conversation? Matthew acted as if there was nothing unusual about him—at least, he never commented on Travis’ behavior to her.
When they reached the field and spotted the men at work, Mark ran off to announce their arrival. She and Mary spread the blanket and set out the food.
The men approached, each going for the tankards. She set out loaves of bread, meat, and cheese and sat down near Mary.
Matthew planted himself across from them, next to Mark, and reached for a few slices of bread. “This smells good. I have worked up an appetite as well as a thirst.” He took some cheese and a few slices of the ham. “Were you able to finish your preserving?”
“Aye.”
Travis took a large serving of bread and ham. He lowered himself beside her.
She shifted away from him and barely heard Matthew’s blessing. Why was Thorpe so obtuse to proper behavior? She uncovered a wooden bowl. “We have some berries the children left for you.” She got up and sat down beside Matthew. Placing her hand on her husband’s arm, she smiled. “Here, Matthew, have some.” She glanced at Thorpe. Perhaps she could dispel any notion Thorpe might have of the impersonal nature of their marriage. Matthew was private and reserved. He was not likely to have shared much with this crude character.
Not many minutes later, Matthew got up and stretched. “Thorpe, we need to get back to work.”
Heather stood and faced the children. “We need to return to the cottage. Remember, Mary, we were going to do some sewing.” She folded up the blanket and handed it to Mark.
As they made their way home, Mary stopped every few feet and picked some wildflowers growing along the path. “I do not really know how to sew.”
“I can teach you. I think you will like it, and I suspect you will do very well.”
Once home, Heather picked up a dress of Mary’s. “You are growing so fast, I planned to let out the seams and take down the hem. This is such a nice piece of cotton that it would be a pity not to wear it as long as possible.”
Mary picked up the edge of the gown. “But it is so plain.”
“Well, we can embellish it a bit with some lace edging or embroidery. Would you like that?”
Mary shoved her chair closer and examined the garment on her lap. “Is it difficult to learn how to embroider?”
“No. Here, I can show you.” She took a scrap of fabric and worked it with a needle and thread. “What do you think?”
Mary stared as she sewed the delicate little stitches into the piece of cotton. “That is beautiful. I wish I knew how to do that.” Mary’s eyes lit up as if she had just discovered a treasure.
“It is not difficult. Perhaps you would like me to teach you, though I must tell you, it has been a while since I have done much needlework. We can take it slow. Perhaps we might purchase some embroidery threads in a few days when we go into Alexandria.”
“Oh, yes. I shall ask Papa tonight.”
She grinned and patted Mary’s arm, grateful for her genuine enthusiasm. Perhaps this new interest might help forge a friendship.
The next morning, Heather and Mary were assembling the dinner to take a picnic to the far side of the pond, where Matthew was weeding the tobacco fields. Just last week, Matthew had explained that, while the Stewart farm did not produce a great quantity of tobacco, it was an essential cash crop. Once cured, it was sold for tobacco notes, a legal tender. With the notes, he purchased services and goods that were not produced on the farm.
Mark ran into the cottage, splashing water from the pail he carried. “I cannot wait until we go see the Duncans.”
Mary took the pail and handed her brother a rag. “I am just as eager as you Mark, but we do not go until the day after tomorrow. Now settle down and wipe up your mess.”
Heather shook her head as she watched the two youngsters. She looked forward to the planned trip into Alexandria also, yet with some reservations. How would Maggie, Adam, and others receive her? It would be splendid to forgo chores and enjoy the diversion of a visit to the city, and pure joy to spend an entire day far from Travis Thorpe.
“I know you are excited to see the Duncans, children, but there is much to do in preparation. Your father is busy, so he plans to work sunrise to dusk for these next two days. After I pack this basket, we can go meet him for our picnic.”
Heather watched them chasing each other around the small cottage. “Will you be able to sit still long enough at the pond to make taking the fishing pole along worthwhile? It might be nice to have some fresh fish for supper.”
Mark bolted from the room. “Yes, yes. I want to go fishing.”
At the pond, they located a shady area where they spread the cloth, emptied the basket, and set out the food. Soon Matthew joined them and settled on a grassy spot beside the cloth. Heather leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree and watched the children digging for worms on the muddy bank to bait their line.
She nodded her head in their direction. “I wonder if they will catch anything.”
Matthew took a wet rag from the basket. He wiped his face and hands, set the cloth down, and waved to the children. “Do you clean fish, Heather?” The skepticism in his voice was unmistakable.
“Aye, I have cleaned many a fish. The Tay, near my home, had salmon, and we enjoyed them often.” His eyes met hers, and a warm sensation came over her. Their banter was fun. She grabbed the rag and threw it at him, hitting the side of his arm. What had prompted her to do that? No doubt the coming trip to town had made her lighthearted too.
A smile formed on his lips. “I meant no offense, woman. Living in the country must be a big change for you—not at all like city or village life.”
“I took no offense.” She laughed. “Cities and villages each have their charms and challenges.” She removed her sunbonnet and fanned herself. The afternoon sun was not a threat under the shade of the tree.
He pointed to a slight incline lined with trees. “The fishing is better beyond that hill over there, at the river—the Potomack. George was over there yesterday and took home a whole line of bullheads and catfish.”
Her eyes met his. “I did not realize that we were still near the Potomack River.”
“Oh yes. It is a major river, extending far northwest of here. On the other side of the river is the colony of Maryland.”
“Are there cities like Alexandria along both sides of the river anywhere near here?”
He gazed off in the direction of the river. “No, but the river is an increasing source of commerce as well as travel. There is a ferry not far from here.” A gentle smile formed on his lips, and the look in his eyes suggested his thoughts were far from the shady spot under the tree.
“Elizabeth missed the company and activity of city life. We used to talk about adding on to the house—I mean considerably adding on.” He had that distant gaze again.
“We planned to open an inn—an ordinary, for travelers crossing the river or traveling the main east-west route that connects Alexandria with the settlements to the west.”
“Do you still have hopes to open an inn someday?” What an intriguing insight into their marriage. She had bitten into a piece of the tender chicken when she spotted Travis Thorpe approaching them.
“No, those plans died with Elizabeth.”
As Thorpe wandered nearer, Matthew eyed him also. “Ho, Thorpe, come over for some chicken and cider.”
The man wore the same clothes he always wore. It was no wonder he smelled so bad. In truth, she had not offered to wash his clothes. They probably would have to be boiled. Who knew what might be living in them?
Travis pushed his fist into the basket and grabbed two pieces of chicken. “It smells good.”
She flinched and glanced away. Hiding her feelings was not a gift she possessed.
Matthew’s eyes met hers before he turned toward Thorpe. “I want you to work in the cornfield and take care of the animals when we go to Alexandria. When we return, you take the next day off for yourself.”
The man only grunted at Matthew’s request.
A loud squeal came from the pond. Heather dropped the warm bread she was unwrapping. Matthew and she both stood before they saw that the outburst was only Mary’s excitement over a fish she was waving around for everyone to see.
“I am going to catch enough for all of us,” she called.
Matthew looked relieved. “You do that. But be careful not to fall in.”
They sat back down just as Thorpe helped himself to a handful of the savory bread.
She seethed. “Mary, come over here and take some of the food for yourself and Mark.”
Matthew glanced at her and coughed into his hand. “I think it is time we went back to work, Thorpe.”
Expressionless, Thorpe surveyed her. His gaze lingered a bit too long before he nodded at Matthew and rose.
She held her breath as Thorpe took off in the direction he had come, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
A Heart Set Free Page 11