“Sir?”
“See to it that she is fed, and find her suitable sleeping quarters. Place her with the house servants,” he said. “And for God’s sake, find some appropriate clothing for her.” He kept his sight on me the entire time, never once turning Matthias’ direction. His tongue brushed his bottom lip.
Matthias vanished as quickly as he had appeared, his quickening footsteps the only indication he was still in the room.
“What is your name, girl?” The man asked.
“Ia,” I answered, my voice hoarse and low.
The master’s brow furrowed. “Ia,” he spoke, rolling my name on his tongue. “So, you are neither deaf nor mute. And you are from Ireland, yes?”
“From the north,” I said.
The man shrugged and turned his back to me, working his way to the throne-like chair behind his desk.
“Your manner of speaking is odd, even for an Irishwoman,” the man said, matter-of-factly. “I suppose that may be another issue of your…condition? I am not familiar with much of Ireland. My family holds lands in the Scottish highlands.” The man sat down and began to scribble in a large ledger.
“I am Lord Malcom, originally suited to a much finer life in England, although this has been my home for some years, thanks in part to the poor governance of my predecessor,” he said, half of his words either mumbled or tainted with a slight slur.
“You will address me as my title demands, and you will work for room and board here.”
He peered over his nose at me again, and I nodded.
“You must understand that I am overly kind. Many would have left you to rot on that beach,” he continued, scribbling more on the document in front of him. “I am so kind as to provide you with food, clothing, and a place to sleep, as well as the opportunity to work to repay the debt.”
He sat down the quill, this time tapping a finger on the desk as his brow furrowed. “I will not remind you again of your place. Address me accordingly, and with respect to my station, as well as with the awareness of yours, yes?”
I nodded, but could see a newly returned Matthias in the background mouthing, “Yes, sir” to me.
“Yes, Lord Malcom, sir.”
Lord Malcom’s face softened, and he waved us away. Asa was quick to reply with a nod of recognition as he turned to carry me out. The exit opened before us, revealing the quiet, silver-headed gentleman who saw us in. He led us a different way than we had entered, taking us through narrow corridors until he opened another door, and the sunlight blinded us.
* * *
We walked in silence, Asa carrying me, and Matthias next to us. Facing his direction, I studied him as he stared straight ahead, the shadow of his hat shading most of his face.
“You are Zatia’s son, aren’t you?” I asked, hoping that a touch of conversation would lighten the tension. Already awkward and unsure of myself in this strange place, I believed myself to have little to lose.
He stopped, and Asa halted with him.
“I am,” he said, “and you will not ask questions of me nor will you say anything of my mother, or I will toss you to them.” He nodded in the direction of the fields, some distance away. I could see a white overseer pacing back and forth, yelling at those working the soil.
“Understand?” Matthias asked as he motioned to Asa for us to continue moving.
“You are in charge of them,” I commented.
“Barely,” he said, sighing. “That’s none of your concern.”
“It weighs heavy on you?”
Matthias stopped again, this time casting me a glance filled with hurt and curiosity. A long breath filled his lungs. “Yes.”
He turned to open the narrow wooden door of the long, white building before us.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked. After all, he could have left me to his overseers as he had threatened.
“My mother asked me to,” he said as he prepared to shut the door, Asa and I having already entered the dark corridor.
“Thank you,” I replied, and his tense, hardened features softened for an instant before the door slammed shut between us.
Chapter 5
I was at the far end of a sizeable room. The beds were nothing more than hay and cloth on the floor. The grottos I had called home were far more comfortable and luxurious to me than these cramped quarters. I would share them with multiple other women, pale and dark alike, but all of them members of the house ranks.
A small group came to see what the fuss was about and meet the survivor of the shipwreck. One of the women laughed when I explained my confusion at the division of the living quarters. I had seen many women in the fields on the way to the main house.
They explained that the field slaves had separate quarters away from our own. We were not to intermingle, or so I was warned, unless we wanted to join them. We were not to intermingle with males of our own kind either, a robust, redheaded woman also warned. She made it evident there would be no difficulties on my part, however, hinting at my leg with a wave of her hand.
“More a formality to tell you,” she said. Her name was Rose, but as there were three other Roses in the same sleeping quarters, she answered to Ann. She tended to the laundry, the clothes of the Master and his folk, as well as all the white servants, as few as they were.
“What of Matthias? Is it permissible to speak to him?” I asked, praying that I would not be barred from speaking with one of the few individuals that I had been acquainted with, regardless of his malcontent.
The women looked to each other, and I could tell from their glances they were choosing their words.
“He’s a handsome one, he is,” one of the younger ladies said, batting her eyes.
“Oh, get off it,” a crass, gray-headed woman wiped her wrinkled brow. That was the second Rose, but as the oldest, she kept her name.
“You treat him as his position commands, but you remember – he ain’t but a smidgen above you.” She spoke as though the mere mention of him put bile in her mouth, and she could not spit him out fast enough.
They chatted for a considerable while before the elder Rose reminded the whole of them that the last of their daily duties were waiting, as well as supper. She invited me to work alongside her, cleaning, once I got around, but was careful to do so only after the others began making their way down the hall, a small hint of pity in her eyes.
And so I sat, using the moments of silence to allow the reality of my situation to sink in, when Mary entered, determined to have me walk about.
“The more you rest on it, the worse it will be. I know these things.” She smiled as she stood in front of me. “I’m going to wrap my arms around your waist, and on the count of three, you are going to push up. And don’t you worry none, I am a stout woman.”
She didn’t wait for a reply.
“Three,” she shouted with a grunt as she lifted. I used what strength I had to comply, and the sudden throw of weight caught her off-guard, sending her backward toward the sole mirror in the room.
Catching our balance within inches of striking the looking glass, we shuffled our way to the broomstick resting in the corner next to my bed. Mary loosened her hold on me, and I grew more confident in my ability. With time, I stood on my own, using a chair or the broomstick to steady me.
“Well, we’ll have you back to walking in no time,” she said. “But for now, let me fetch Asa. I’ve been instructed to feed you immediately, so we’ll just have you eat in the kitchens, yes?”
“Asa – doesn’t he serve Matthias?”
“Oh, yes, but Matthias can spare him,” Mary said.
“You think highly of him, but he is rude to me,” I said with a small snort. “Perhaps it is that you see good in everyone, Mary.”
She nodded as she opened the door and waved Asa in.
“Perhaps I do,” she said.
Asa had me up and in his arms before I realized it, flashing a slight smile as he did so.
“Thank you, Asa,” I said, looking up at the gentl
e giant carrying me. The sun was setting, and clouds hung low in the sky, casting a beautiful shade of pink and blue across the horizon. I marveled at it as we rounded the corner and ducked in through a small, servant access door, and wound our way through a narrow hall, following the swelling heat and aroma of cuisine.
The hall opened up to a large room filled with pots, pans, and several women glided through the kitchen, grabbing supplies and stirring their fare. Asa sat me down on a short stool and handed me the broomstick to help keep me steady.
The scent of warm food battered my nostrils. I had never eaten cooked food, and the thought was nauseating, but I felt weak and an enormous pain was growing in my stomach.
Mary donned an apron as soon as she walked through the door and joined the rest of the workers as they chopped, whisked, yelled for the young helpers to fetch this and that from the pantry. A few short minutes, and Mary handed me a bowl, filled with a thick, bubbling hot liquid and a spoon.
I eyed both, and Mary called out, “It’s hot, take your time.”
I would have to. Having never eaten with a spoon, I stared at it long enough for the soup in my bowl to cool, twisting the handle of it back and forth in my hand. I knew what the utensil was, but performing the action was unfamiliar.
I watched the women work, saw them pick up large, exaggerated versions of the tool I held in my hands, paid close attention as they scooped up their creations and brought it to their mouths, sipping lightly, tasting.
Following suit was difficult, unnatural, but by the time the edge of the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, I was functioning, although it was not pretty. Some of the food dripped down my chin, but my starvation pushed past any shame I harbored.
“You are not used to spoons, are you?”
The voice was rich and deep. Matthias. Several of the women heard the rumble of his voice and looked up, halting as if awaiting orders.
“Continue your work,” he said, and they obliged with a harmonic “Yes, sir!” - Their stirrings and kneading and working rapidly increased by the second. They cast curious glances over to our corner as they labored.
My skin heated as I flushed with embarrassment. Lifting my hand to wipe my chin, I further smeared the dabble of food. He appeared at my side, knelt down to face me.
“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket.
A small white fabric was offered up, and I eyed it with suspicion as I reached to accept it. My movement was slow, however, and unsure, and he responded by lifting the cloth to my chin and dabbing away the mess.
“I need to speak with you, alone.”
He kept his voice low, his concentration on cleaning me up. His face close to mine made me uneasy, shy. He was handsome, easily the most handsome male I’d seen onshore or in the waters, and I understood what the young washwoman had seen in him.
He was striking, every bit of him, and my attraction to him was undeniable and embarrassing. His touch, as I just now had found, could be so gentle, but his words and behavior toward me were so harsh.
Why did I find myself so intrigued by this man? Was I really so shallow to be drawn in by a handsome face?
Torn between the desire to slap him and kiss him, I grasped his wrist, staying his movement. It would be best if he kept his distance. Perhaps the more I would come to know him, the more I would grow to love him, but the more it would hurt to know that we could never be.
Fate was not kind, and I was blessed to have garnered its mercy once before.
“I do not need your pity, Matthias,” I leaned away from him as I pushed his hand away from me.
“I pity no one, Ia,” he said as he stood up. “You least of all.”
My heart skipped a beat. Again, gentle in one moment and so abrasive the next.
“Matthias, sir,” a boy stepped in to the kitchen, dark skinned and thin, resembling a younger, more gaunt Matthias. “The master is requesting you in the slave’s quarters.”
Matthias’s jaw flexed. Everything about the way he carried himself, down to the smallest movement, told me he was holding a storm inside, and while I knew myself to be the cause of a piece of it, my instinct told me something far worse was at hand.
He nodded and walked toward the door.
He looked back over his shoulder. “We will speak later.”
The door shut behind him, and a collective sigh of relief could be heard throughout the room, mine most certainly the loudest.
Chapter 6
My hunger satiated, Asa returned me to the sleeping quarters, and I found myself for the first time since arriving, pleasantly alone. The heat still hung in the stale air, so I motioned for Asa to leave the door open as he left, hoping that the warmth would seek an exit and provide me a moment’s reprieve.
Stationed at my makeshift bed, I managed to remove my clothes, leaving only a thin, sheer layer of cloth to cover me. Mary had placed the sole chair in the room next to where I would sleep, knowing I needed the help to balance.
As it would happen, I was also stationed next to the lone mirror in the room, a tall, wooden-framed marvel that we had almost stumbled into earlier.
I could’ve stared at my reflection for hours if Mary would have let me. It was fascinating, seeing myself for the first time in such clarity.
In the water, in my gifted form as a mermaid, I knew I was attractive, at least to the mermen.
This device, however, allowed me to see the truth of my appearance, and I found it confusing, difficult to imagine what they saw when they looked at me. I was not of any particular beauty, from what I could tell. I could easily find several sisters far more comely than I.
This human form – was it any different, aside from the legs?
I pulled the thin, white fabric against my shape as I stood, propping myself against the chair to ease the trembling muscles of my legs. I saw all my body had to show me, saw the small, round pink of my nipples pressed against the fabric, saw the triangle that formed where my legs began.
Using the palm my hand, I traced the features of my face, grazed the swell of my breasts, and followed the curve of my waist, my figure, down to my legs.
Matthias’ face came out of the shadow of the doorway, and it was the green of his eyes illuminated by the moonlight, as much as his presence, that froze me in place.
His plush lips were parted, his breathing growing heavier with each moment that passed. Those eyes – they were changed from what I had seen earlier. There was no coldness, nor anger.
He savored me, and I let him, unsure of what I should say, and unsure of the strange stirrings this man’s presence sparked within me. I opened my mouth to say something to the man who was now blatantly appraising me, but I stopped.
I liked the way he looked at me, despite his earlier abrasiveness, and as his gaze roamed my form, so did mine to his, taking in his strong, firm stature. His shoulders were wide above a broad chest and narrowed down to a lean waist.
I could see the build of his arms through his shirt, their muscles drawing tight under my attention, and his hands. I wanted his hands on me, everywhere his gaze touched, and I found my cheeks flushing with the thought as my yearning for his flesh built.
An eternity passed, or so it seemed, before he tightened his jaw, pursed his lips, and looked away. I released the cloth, letting its small shadow cover me.
“Here,” he said, breaking the silence as he held out a long wooden stick with a curve on the end. “It is not my finest work, but I made it quickly, knowing you could use it.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning and reaching for his offering. The cane was heavy but sturdy. A sweet, wooden scent emanated from it and there were rough ridges where it had been carved. Placing the other end on the ground, I found it surprisingly stabilizing despite my shakiness.
“I will smooth it more tomorrow,” he said, turning to leave.
“Wait,” I stopped. It was ludicrous, and I regretted speaking or even indicating I had something to say. I hoped that he didn’t hear me and would continue h
is course.
He halted, looked over his shoulder, casting furtive glances at me.
“Speak,” he said.
“Do you like what you see?” I stammered out.
His eyes met mine, and he walked up to me, inches away. The heat of his breath lapped at my skin, setting me aflame. His expression hardened and softened, full of conflicting emotion. His jaw flexed, and he swallowed.
I was not sure why, exactly, perhaps it was as shallow as my appreciation for his striking appearance, but I wanted him to kiss me, to take me with the lust I had seen in his eyes.
“No,” he said, through gritted teeth, and then he turned away from me and walked out of the room.
Mary gave a quick knock at the door before she stepped in, not so much to ask permission as to inform me of her entrance. She looked down the hall, the direction Matthias had headed, her brow wrinkled in confusion, and I struggled to hide the aggravation spawned by his rejection.
Chapter 7
The next two days I spent falling, or so it seemed. My muscles were strong, and it did not take me long to stand, but walking was more difficult than I imagined. Everything about the motion was unnatural to me, a heavy chore worsened by my leg.
Asa kept a silent vigil and remained an ever-present guardian outside the door to my room to carry me in to the kitchen for my daily meal. That, too, was an experience I was unused to.
The oceans are teeming with life, and while human flesh and blood was the most nourishing (and delicious, unfortunately), other, smaller prey were always available in times of hunger. The hunger, coupled with the distress of this foreign place, robbed me of sleep, and in my restlessness, my mind circled around the memory of Lili as she plummeted.
Was she dead? Was she severely injured?
A pang of guilt, of grief, washed over me. Overwhelmed by my own situation, I had not given her and her outcome as much thought as I should. All of it still felt as though it were a dream.
Falling in Deep Collection Box Set Page 19