Rebel Enchantress

by Leigh Greenwood

  “Most of the time you can find Lester in the butler’s pantry or the dining room,” Nathan said as he opened the door to a room at the back of the hall. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves loaded with china, crystal, and plate. A tall, gaunt, gray-haired black man sat at a low table, polishing a large silver serving spoon. “When he’s not here, he’s in the kitchen.”

  “You needn’t be looking at me like you seen a spook,” the man said, not unkindly, as he waved the large spoon at Delilah. “I get to tell you what to do.” He lifted himself out of the chair. “Here, you finish with the polishing while I see to setting the table. Before you know it, Mrs. Stebbens will be hollering for me to fetch the first course, and me without the linens laid out yet. Don’t stand about with your mouth open, gal. Ain’t you never seen a black man before?”

  “Of course I have,” answered Delilah, quickly recovering her composure. “I can also set a table.”

  “What would the likes of you know about setting any table in this house?” Lester asked, condescension clearly written on his thin features. “You polish that silver nice and bright, and I’ll see about teaching you to lay out a table the way proper folks do it. But not until you have every piece shining so bright it’d put your eyes out to look at it in the sunlight.”

  “I was told I would help wait on the table,” Delilah said with a certain hauteur of her own. She wasn’t about to become a servant to a servant.

  “And have you breaking up the china? I may let you hand around the dessert if you’re careful, but you ain’t getting your hands on the soup tureen or one of them serving dishes. Why, it’d take you five years to pay for them.”

  “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Nathan said, turning toward the door. “Remember, let my aunt know if you need anything, but Lester will probably be able to take care of you.”

  “You’d best talk to old Lester,” the black man said the minute the door closed behind Nathan. “Mrs. Noyes was born with a real nasty streak, and she’s been improving on it ever since.”

  Delilah looked despairingly at the closed door through which Nathan had just disappeared.

  “He ain’t going to help you none,” Lester said. “The only man that’s going to stand between you and that screech owl is me, so you better get to work on that silver while I see to the table.” He paused before he went through the door, turned back, and gave Delilah an appraising look. “Now that I think of it, it might be better if she don’t see much of you for the next few days.”

  “She knows I’m here.”

  “Sure she does, but if she don’t see you, it won’t bother her so much.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will,” said Lester as he turned and opened the door. “You most surely will.”

  Delilah seated herself at the table and picked up the spoon Lester had been working on. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. It had a double-line border and a heavily embellished initial—B—engraved on the handle. The only piece of silverware Delilah could remember seeing was a small cup someone had given Reuben when he was born. They had sold it during the war. She looked at the shelves around her. There was enough silverware in thus one room to pay off half the debts in the county. What right did Nathan Trent have to own so much expensive tableware when hundreds of people around him were struggling just to put food on the table?

  She felt an irrational urge to snatch up that big china serving dish and smash it on the floor. Why couldn’t Nathan give up just one of these pieces for Reuben’s debt? It wouldn’t mean anything to him. He probably wouldn’t even know it was missing.

  But Delilah dismissed the idea almost as soon as it occurred to her. Nathan might forgive the debt, but that wouldn’t cancel it. Only when she had paid back every shilling could she leave Maple Hill with her family pride fully restored.

  Then she might smash a piece of his china.

  She picked up a cloth and began to polish the spoon. She would turn her back on Nathan Trent just as quickly as he had closed the pantry door on her. Her only loyalty was to Reuben and to the others who were laboring under debts and struggling with high taxes. No, she didn’t owe a single thing to Nathan Trent or his kind.

  But Delilah couldn’t dismiss Nathan that easily. She still felt a lingering excitement, a tantalizing remnant of what she’d experienced while sitting next to him during the buggy ride. She had never been around a man as attractive as Nathan Trent, and it was impossible for her to simply forget him. He was too tall, too handsome, too alive. But it wasn’t just his looks. It was what he did to her that was so shocking.

  He made her feel funny all over.

  When she was close to him, an ache pervaded her whole body. If he smiled, she was light-headed; if he frowned, she felt she had no head at all. Her breath seemed shallow, her chest tight, and her voice a mere whisper. First she was too hot; then she felt cold. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so strange.

  Her mind was no better. Not only had she begun to question her reasons for coming to Maple Hill, she was starting to question Captain Shays as well. No sooner did she decide Reuben had a right to keep his oxen than she also decided Nathan had the right to collect the debts owed him. The moment she determined Nathan was the enemy and should be treated as one, she realized he was just as much a citizen of Massachusetts as she was.

  She laid the spoon down, took up a large fork, and began rubbing it very hard. She didn’t want to think about it. Everyone would be better served if she kept her mind on her work and off Nathan Trent.

  Nathan mounted the steps two at a time and went quickly to his room. He knew it was callous to desert Delilah so abruptly, albeit it was better to leave her with Lester than his Aunt Serena, but he didn’t want to be around her any more than necessary. She was too damned enchanting. As long as it was only a matter of physical attraction, there was a chance he could control his interest. He had known many beautiful women in London, some more beautiful than Delilah. Realizing they were beyond his reach had made it possible for him to think of them without uncontrollable longing and desire.

  He pulled his clothes off and, in his haste to change and be gone, unceremoniously tossed the discarded garments on the floor. He wanted to be out of the house before Priscilla had a chance to corner him. That was one woman he did look upon with longing and desire—a longing to get away from her and a desire never to see her again. He reached into the cupboard for one of the two clean shirts left there.

  For all practical purposes, Delilah was just as much out of his reach as any grand lady in London, but he had been thinking of her lustfully from the moment he had set eyes on her. He didn’t know how he was going to get through the next four months. He couldn’t stay away from home all the time.

  Maybe he could go to Boston and see what was happening in the General Court. No, he had to stay closer to Maple Hill and put his estate in order. And that meant putting Delilah out of his thoughts.

  But he found himself bedazzled by a pair of dark blue eyes. There was nothing special about them. There must be thousands like them in Massachusetts. Still, something about this pair would not let him go. And, of course, her mouth was too wide. She had only smiled once, but instead of thinking her smile showed too many teeth for classic beauty, he had wanted only to know what had made her smile, and had wanted to see her smile again.

  He thrust his arms into his coat. She’s a witch. She’s one of these Puritan witches I’ve heard about. They can make you think anything they want.

  Of course he didn’t believe that.

  Priscilla Noyes was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She was really quite attractive—she had a thin, fragile beauty, much as her mother must have had twenty years earlier; but lines of discontent were already visible on her face, and the hard, predatory look in her eyes made Nathan’s skin feel cold and damp. His aunt made no secret of the fact that she planned on Nathan’s marrying his cousin, but Nathan had no intention of sharing his name, hi
s fortune, or his bed with Priscilla Noyes. To him, that would be practically the same as marrying Serena.

  “Going out again?” Priscilla sighed with spurious sympathy. “It must be a great responsibility to be so rich.”

  “It’s easy to be rich,” Nathan said impatiently. “The hard part is to keep on being rich.”

  “That shouldn’t be difficult. Mama says Uncle Ezra left you a simply huge amount of money.”

  Serena Noyes never missed an opportunity to use the supposed size of her brother’s fortune as a weapon. When she wanted something Nathan wouldn’t buy, she didn’t see how anyone so rich could be so stingy. When she offered him advice, she did so because even such a huge fortune wouldn’t last long the way he was handling it.

  “What Uncle Ezra left me,” Nathan responded, too brusquely for courtesy, “is dozens of farms which need careful management so they won’t cost money rather than make it, widely scattered investments in businesses suffering due to poor times, hundreds of uncollectible debts scattered the length and breadth of Massachusetts, a huge house that swallows money without making a shilling, and a few hundred pounds in cash. We could easily end up as poor as Delilah.”

  Priscilla tittered; it was a silly laugh, one intended to show she knew they were sharing a joke. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’re just saying that because of mother.”

  Nathan swore aloud.

  Priscilla drew closer. She was always trying to get close to him, to get her hands on him. It made Nathan’s skin crawl. She whispered confidentially in his ear.

  “She’s still angry that Uncle Ezra left you his money. She says you’re an Englishman, that you really aren’t part of the family.” She laughed. It was the same silly titter. “She says there ought to be a law against Englishmen inheriting our money.”

  “Just as there ought to be a law requiring all colonials to pay their English debts?”

  Priscilla stared at him, her face blank. Nathan was exasperated with himself for letting his temper get the best of him. “All Uncle Ezra did to become an American was cross an ocean. I’ve done the same, so I guess I’m an American too.”

  “That’s not what people are saying,” Priscilla told him. She was leaning against him, their bodies touching from thigh to shoulder. “But they might look upon you differently if you married a real American.”

  “I’m not ready to think of marriage,” Nathan said, carefully disengaging himself. “I have too much to do.”

  Priscilla put a hand on Nathan’s arm and looked directly into his eyes with her vacuous gaze. “You need a wife who won’t make demands on you, one who understands you, one who knows how to be the mistress of your house.”

  “I couldn’t ask anyone to marry me. I may go back to England.”

  “A dutiful wife would follow her husband anywhere.”

  Not even the threat of returning to England seemed capable of driving Priscilla into retreat.

  For the last two weeks Nathan hadn’t let himself think about going back. He had come to Massachusetts with the intention of converting his inheritance into cash, but two things stopped him. First, the amount he could realize from the sale of his uncle’s estate wasn’t enough to enable him to reestablish the family business. Second, even if he could sell all his uncle’s property and business interests, he wouldn’t get half of what they were worth.

  “Mother says you’re going to lose everything Uncle Ezra left you,” Priscilla continued. “She says you don’t have his brains or his backbone.”

  She said that just as blithely as if she were telling him to expect company for dinner. If this was her idea of how to seduce a man, she would never get married.

  “Let’s hope your mother is in for a big surprise,” he said, trying to control his temper. “It would be a shame if all of us had to leave Maple Hill.”

  “We can’t. Where would we go?”

  Nathan could see genuine fear at the back of Priscilla’s eyes, and some of his impatience disappeared. She was selfish, vain, and maybe a little bit stupid. She could never adapt to poverty.

  Delilah could go from being rich to poor without a pause, he thought. And without making her husband feel it was his fault. Not only that, she would find a way to help him get ahead again. With a woman like that, no man would be poor.

  Damn! He had to get his mind off Delilah.

  “Tell Aunt Serena I won’t be back for dinner,” Nathan said as he picked up his gloves and riding crop from a long, narrow table.

  “You always work so hard. Don’t you like to have fun?”

  “I don’t have time,” Nathan replied impatiently. “I’ve got to see several people tonight. It’ll be easier if I eat at the tavern.”

  “You must be tired of talking to men all the time. You need a change of company.” Priscilla smiled sickeningly. She oozed over and leaned suggestively against Nathan.

  “The more I move among the neighbors, the more quickly I will begin to understand them,” Nathan said, disengaging himself once again. “And the quicker I understand them, the better I will manage my property. I want to start making money, not just to be trying to collect what’s owed me.”

  “Uncle Ezra always said the easiest way to make money is to take what someone else already has.”

  That’s not my way,” he said.

  But now he understood his uncle better. It was a wonder the old bastard had been allowed to die in bed.

  Chapter Five

  Nathan had a choice. He could think about the cold and tasteless dinner served him at the tavern, he could brood over the fact that everyone seemed anxious to avoid his company, or he could ignore both disagreeable realities and let his mind dwell on Delilah.

  He took the easiest alternative, despite knowing it was a waste of time to think about her. Or any woman. They could not be trusted. He had reason to know. He had made a fool of himself once already.

  Nevertheless, thoughts of Delilah invaded his mind. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking this weakness had its roots in a feeling of guilt over leaving Maple Hill before she’d had time to settle in. Delilah could take care of herself. He’d seldom seen a more self-sufficient woman.

  No, he had run away because he couldn’t control his response to her. Not admirable behavior, certainly not the kind he expected of himself. And he couldn’t use Delilah’s devastating effect on him as an excuse. Any self-respecting man ought to be in better control of his emotions. It was probably just as well he’d learned of his susceptibility. A few days more and it might have been too late.

  If their first meetings had been battles, he would now be suffering from nearly mortal wounds. And as far as he could tell, he had yet to make any impression on her. She still hated everything he stood for, and her feelings for him consisted of equal parts of dislike and distrust.

  A prudent man would recognize when the encounter was lost. He would withdraw his forces and wait for a more propitious moment to fight. If the war could not be won, he would gather his forces and remove to a foreign land where he might begin over again.

  Nathan knew he wasn’t being prudent. He might never win the friendship of these silent, angry colonials—Americans they called themselves now—but he intended to win their respect. However, he wanted more than respect from Delilah.

  He knew he couldn’t treat her as he would another woman. As with the mute, somber men who directed angry gazes at him across mugs of rum or ale, too much stood between them. If he made a direct attack, she would repulse him without a second thought.

  If he made a flanking maneuver … Well, one could never tell what might happen.

  Nathan was back.

  For a week the house had slumbered in a state of quiet waiting while he had traveled about the area to survey his holdings. Serena visited friends or spent the days in bed. Priscilla spent most of her time out riding. That left Delilah, Lester, and Mrs. Stebbens pretty much to themselves.

  “It’s almost like we own the place,” Lester had observed after they
had spent a quiet evening in the kitchen.

  Delilah enjoyed Mrs. Stebbens’s company, but she didn’t feel the same way about Lester. She was certain he disliked her—she didn’t like him much either—but he had already shielded her from Serena’s vindictiveness.

  “Don’t think I do it for you, girl,” he’d said when Delilah tried to thank him. “I was just looking out for myself. If that woman makes trouble for you, Mr. Trent will make trouble for me.”

  When Delilah asked him what he meant by that, Lester replied quite rudely, “When I wants you to know, I’ll tell you.”

  After that Delilah pretty much ignored Lester, and life quickly settled into a dull routine.

  Nathan’s return to Maple Hill shattered that.

  Serena got dressed and issued so many orders Lester turned from an affable despot into a moody tyrant. Mrs. Stebbens had to cook a dinner large enough to feed ten people, Delilah ran up and down the steps with cans of steaming bath water, Priscilla just puzzled over which gown to wear for dinner.

  “Get yourself a pot and shell them peas,” Lester told Delilah. “When you’re done with that, pull a dozen ears of corn and shuck ’em. Mind you, I don’t want them ears full of worms. I don’t want silks left between the kernels neither.”

  “I’m not supposed to work in the garden,” Delilah objected.

  “You work where you’s needed,” Lester said. “Old Applegate’s too laid up with the rheumatism to go fetching vegetables for dinner.”

  “I don’t even know where the garden is.”

  “You can find it, girl. Ain’t nobody trying to hide it.”

  “Why don’t you give her a hand,” Mrs. Stebbens suggested. “It’s time for me to have dinner in me pot.”

  “It ain’t no good being a butler if I has to go digging in the dirt while some green gal who ain’t never been inside a house without dirt floors stays in the cool,” Lester stated flatly. “Besides, Mrs. Noyes said she was to take over picking the vegetables. With all this rain, old Applegate can hardly get out of his bed.”