Bittersweet Endeavors Read online

  “But not when the child's tainted with that of Negro blood.”

  * * *

  After nearly a full day’s work, Myra stepped outside. The cool air was refreshing after she spent hours in the warm, stuffy air of the kitchen, all filled with smoke and steam from the large pots of meats and vegetables that cooked on the fire. She strolled toward the men who tarried and toiled on the new plantation home, a full bucket of water at her side. She continued cautiously and was careful not to let any splash and seep onto her woolen frock.

  A man who stood on the roof called down to Seth, and said, “Should be done ‘fore winter is over, I'd think,”

  “Aye, if the weather holds.”

  For once, it looked as if Seth was in good spirits. Even from the distance she saw a faint smile on his face as he conversed with several of the men.

  Seth didn’t notice her approach, and when she walked behind him, he chose that exact moment for stepping backwards into her path. He bumped into her, and practically toppled her to the ground. The motion emptied the entire bucket of water onto her dress. His hands gripped her shoulders to catch her fall, as well as kept himself steady.

  Myra looked down at her dress; the dampness of the water blackened the gray frock from chest to hem. A chill seized her when the cold air penetrated through the wet dress and nipped cruelly at her skin.

  “What are you doing?” Seth yelled as he recovered from his near fall onto the ground. He grabbed the bucket from her hand and tossed it aside, and a firm scowl set on his face. “If you hadn’t crept up on me,” he accused, “Then this needn’t have happened.”

  Myra was too startled for speech or in defending herself, and so she stood silent.

  “Then again, considering you are a thief, I assume sneaking up on people is what you do best.”

  “I didn’t sneak up on you.” She rested her hand on her hip and pursed her lips. Albeit a difficult task, she held her anger in check. She wondered who he was to be yelling at her about something he had caused. “I was bringing a pail of water to help quench your thirst, t’was all,” she returned, annoyed. “And I’m not a thief,” she declared with less exuberance.

  Seth looked at her dress and offered an expression of pity. He swept a slow, sensual glance over her body and the act made each one of the fine hairs on her body stand on end. A shiver touched her skin and radiated into parts within her that she didn’t yet know existed until that moment.

  “You're cold,” he needlessly stated when she shivered.

  He removed his Cassock coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. A gesture of good faith, she thought. She didn’t expect such thoughtfulness from the brute he’d often proved himself since her arrival. This was the same man who frequently found duties for her regardless if she was already occupied, and others sat idle and readied for the tasks at hand. He had become such a contradiction and she wasn’t sure what to make of him.

  His current display of protectiveness challenged her usual observation of him. She wasn’t prepared for it. Thoughts of casting the coat off her shoulders and into his face entered her mind. But its warmth and the faint, sweet aroma of his scent still lingered and gave her pause. Myra turned the collar upward against the wind that bit at her cheeks. She inhaled deep breaths of air and calmed herself, but the fragrant scent of him accosted her senses. Dear Lord, she nearly sighed aloud!

  “Go back to the house and change into something else before you take ill,” he softly ordered.

  Myra turned her head from him, uncertain by the sudden change in his demeanor. Gadzooks, he almost sounded concerned! “I—I can't,” she stammered out nervously. Her dress looked indecent in its wet state, and she tugged the jacket’s collar down until it wrapped modestly around her chest. “I have naught to wear but this,” she said, embarrassed, and then remembered the numerous gowns she left behind at Brunnington. Sadness quickly filled her heart. She thought about the pink gown her father had purchased the prior day of his death. She had planned to wear it to a formal affair hosted by the court at the Palace of Westminster, and hoped she’d gain the envy of all the young ladies of London. Myra wondered what Seth would think if he saw her in such opulence. He wouldn’t snub his nose at her then, she figured. In fact, she’d even wager a guess that he’d have probably asked her father’s permission in receiving him.

  “Come with me,” he said gently. He took her by the crook of her arm. “I’m sure Margaret will have something suitable.”

  She set her feet determinedly into the ground and pulled back. She refused to let him take her further. “But—but, I cannot. Your sister’s clothes are too refined for my wearing with such tasks I do.”

  Seth didn’t persist, but kept his hand placed upon her arm. A smile graced his lips and Myra felt that she’d melt into the ground along with the previous night’s snow. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen and that made her feel uneasy around him. Myra looked down at his arm that held her sweet captive. His touch coursed heat throughout her body, and although soaked and frighteningly cold from the weather, his touch warmed her insomuch that she thought she’d break a sweat. She wondered what manner of power he beheld to cause such a reaction from within her.

  “What would you know of finery?” He laughed, and it sufficiently baited her out from her reverie.

  Why did he anger her now when she nearly believed him sincere? Oh, how she longed to announce her true identity. Mayhap, then, she could remove the arrogant smirk from his face.

  “I know many things, Mister Preston. Despite what you mayhap think, I am not ignorant.” She pulled from his grasp.

  He didn’t let her go.

  Seth stood quiet for a moment and gazed into her eyes. A smile tugged at the edges of lips. Myra willed herself not to turn away, and she pierced him with a hard stare. His lips curved into a full smile and it softened Myra’s hardened state. Her heart thumped in wild secessions within her chest.

  “Nay, you're not ignorant,” he finally conceded, thoughtfully. “I’ll even wager you've had some teachings.” A light brow arched in question. “Perhaps another employer provided such?” The wind blew a gust of cold wind and Seth swept his light blond locks from his forehead. A roguish grin appeared. “Perhaps a madam in your last employ?” he asked.

  Perhaps it was from her proper upbringing, or possibly just incited by his smugness, but she did the unthinkable of someone in her position—she slapped him.

  He registered disbelief by the action. His hand brushed across his reddened cheek that the cold overemphasized against his light skin. Yet his stunned expression didn’t match her look of surprise when the smile slipped back into the curves of his mouth.

  “Well, tis safe to say you’ve kept your virtue intact and only remained a mere thief who—”

  “How dare you!” She raised her hands into the air and brought them down onto his chest and shoved him away. Although, it’d had been easier in moving a mountain. “Who do you think you are? To insinuate that I am…That I would—” She snarled instead of following with words. “You’re a farmer! A plain, simple, lowly farmer!” Her finger dug hard into his chest with each word spoken. “You’ll one day regret the way you speak to me, Mister Preston. One day, it’ll be I who’ll see to it that you do my bidding and not the other way around!”

  Seth laughed at that. A mistake he learned too late. She lifted her leg behind her and snapped it down on the same shin she had kicked while at auction on that first day they met.

  “Why do you do that?” Seth's face flushed with anger. “Couldn't you have at least struck the other leg? The last bruise you inflicted has just recently faded!” He loomed above her and glared down. “A lesser man would have you whipped for this.”

  “Whipped,” she shouted. “You insinuate I am a—you question my virtue, and I am the one to be beaten? I think not,” Myra raged. “The King is my cousin and he’ll have you hanged for the offenses you’ve taken against me. Believe this true, I would find great pleasure in securing the knot about y
our neck.”

  Seth blinked and his mouth opened, but no words formed. His eyes narrowed and he looked over her again. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’d find pleasure in securing the knot about your neck!”

  “About the king being your cousin,” he countered crossly.

  Gad, did she just admit her cousin was King Charles? For the love of all saints above, what did she do? Panic seized her and she closed her eyes. Myra quickly measured her prior words. How foolish it was allowing her anger to overrule common sense! When no explanation came to mind to withdraw her hasty remarks, she whipped her skirts around and made a dash for the house. Seth came too fast after her and caught her arm with his hand. He whirled her around and forced her to face him.

  “Do you know what trouble you’ll cause yourself for stating such falsehoods?” Each word passed between gritted teeth. Then, his face softened. A look of concern cascaded over him after she flinched by his tugging at her arm. “For your own good, Myra,” he pleaded, “I’ll not hear such blather from your lips again. Such claims are an offence against the crown and the penalty is harsh.”

  With a curt nod, she conceded, and thankfully so! Zookes! What trouble she’d have found if he believed her. It seemed like a lifetime passed before he released her arm. Once he did, she removed and returned his overcoat and walked toward the wigwam that housed the kitchen.

  “Go find Margaret, Myra. She’ll find you dry clothing. I don’t wish in seeing you ill due to my carelessness.” A hint of concern softened his tone, again.

  She turned around and looked at him and her eyebrow quirked upward in question. “Was that a semblance of an apology?”

  A mock look of surprise lit his face, and Myra couldn’t resist the smile that crept across her lips. Turning around, he walked and joined the other men who worked on the house, but not before he offered her the most adoring of smiles.

  No matter how angry she became by his presence, she was always left with an array of mixed emotions. Despite her desire to dislike him, she continually found herself yearning for their next encounter.

  * * *

  Atop the hill, Seth watched Myra as she sat by the stream and threw pebbles into the water. Even in the distance, he saw the solemn look upon her face. A dreamy expression had spread over her as she looked over the fields, but she aimed her stare at nothing in particular. An angelic hue haloed around her from the sun's diminished gleam. Seth contemplated joining her, but when he spotted Lucia coming down the hill to meet Myra, he stepped back and out of sight behind a tree.

  Go back home, he admonished himself. He leaned his back against the willow’s trunk that shielded him from her sight. His feet wouldn’t budge. Curiosity or mayhap adoration of her beauty got the better of him. He turned around and watched her again, as he found himself doing so many times since the day that she had arrived.

  Lucia handed her something and Seth squinted, curious to know what manner of token she brought that brightened the smile on Myra’s face. His chest tightened. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He envisioned her in his arms, and the smile that she presently donned being aimed at him. He leaned back against the tree and enjoyed the pleasantness of the daydream.

  His father approached and called out toward Seth’s direction. “What are you doing over there, Seth?”

  Startled by his father’s commanding voice, Seth abandoned his pleasant musings. His father catching him spying on the servant girl, especially Myra, wouldn’t fare well for him. “I’m taking a rest from walking,” he lied.

  Seth stole a glance in Myra's direction and hoped that she and Lucia didn’t notice he’d been there all along. With consideration of the distance, he doubted they overheard his father when he called out. When he peered around the tree, he watched their backs as Myra and Lucia ascended the hill on the other side of the lake.

  “Get that thought out of your head, Seth,” his father sternly ordered.

  “What thought?” Too much in a trance from the sight he beheld, his voice sounded unemotional as he gazed at the movement Myra's hips made while they swayed from side to side. A heavy lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard and pushed it back down.

  “That girl.” His father shook his head and let loose a heavy sigh. “Learn from my mistakes, Seth.”

  The words cut through him like a sword. Seth turned and faced his father and was unable to keep his surprise at bay. His father had never mentioned his past indiscretion so blatantly. The incredulity of it brought a silence between them both.

  Anvil cleared his throat and it slowly cleansed the adulterous air around them. Patting Seth heavily on the back, his boisterous voice rang out. “Now, let us get our work done, Seth. The hour is growing late and I wish for no more delays. We shall move into our new home ‘fore winter becomes too harsh. Your dallying out here shalt only prolong that time. Wouldn't you agree?”

  Seth looked across the field and watched the men who worked into the late hour on the decorative trim of their new home. The sound of hammers striking the tips of nails and saws grinding against wood echoed from afar.

  “It’ll be the grandest home in Jamestown and shalt capture the envy of all.” His father’s chest heaved outward and a proud look illuminated his face. “It shall all be yours one day, Seth. Then, it shall be your future sons thereafter.” Anvil looked reverently at Seth, but his father’s wariness aged his face by many years in the short space of time they stood there. “A girl like that,” he said, nodding in the direction of Myra, “Twould only bring down what I strived hard in creating.” His father took a few steps away from Seth. He looked off into the field where layers of tobacco grew prosperous when in season. “Wealth and prestige are important,” his father continued in the same sharp, formidable tone. “In the short time we’ve been here, I’ve gained that amongst our neighbors and elders. Aye, wealth and prestige are everything,” he repeated, but much more vivaciously. “Never forget that. I don’t wish seeing all my work ruined by your fancying the wrong sort. Do you understand?”

  Seth didn't understand, but as always, he nodded his head in agreement. “You have naught to worry about, father, I haven’t taken a fancy for our new servant.”

  “Good. Then we must plan. You are near four and twenty years. Tis time we arrange your marriage with one of the eligible ladies who are more appropriate for your station.”

  Seth didn’t consider marriage too often, but the thought of being shackled to one of the proper ladies of Jamestown left a sour taste in his mouth. Good God, if he raised his voice above a whisper, most of them would startle like a mouse. Nay, timid, well-mannered women didn’t suit him. His taste desired one full of fire and life. A woman similar to—he quashed the thought before he dwelled on it. His father was right. A girl—nay, he corrected after he envisioned the well-defined curves on Myra's delicate frame—a woman like Myra didn’t make an appropriate wife for someone of his station. Not that he considered the possibility of marriage to Myra, of course, but someone with a similar disposition in the upper classes would suit him just fine.

  “Tis best if we hold off marriage plans until my return from Cambridge. Wouldn’t you agree, father? I’m sure a new wife wouldn’t appreciate a husband being absent for such a long length of time after marriage.”

  Anvil grunted out something unintelligible. He finally nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. We must think more about it. However, since you’ve broach the subject of school, it may serve best if we act on completing your education first. We’ve put it off much too long as it is. I shall send a post to England on the morrow and see about finishing your studies.”

  Seth followed Anvil’s stare as he watched Myra and Lucia. He admired Myra’s delicate figure silhouetted against the dusk backdrop. His body tensed and the urge crossed his mind to call out her name, but his father mewled out his disgust, and Seth quickly turned away, embarrassed about being caught woolgathering over the servant girl again.

  “Aye, sending a post to Cambridge is a good id
ea, father.”

  “I think the sooner the better,” his father added under his breath, as he, too, watched Myra in the distance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “It’s a reception to honor the marriage of a family friend, Myra.”

  “But Miss Preston—”

  “Margaret. Please, Myra, call me Margaret.” Margaret’s youthful face glowed. With an angelic smile, she bowed her head invitingly.

  Myra’s fingers twisted and pulled at her skirt. Accompanying Margaret to the festivity wasn’t high on her priority list of things required to be done at the Preston home. She needed an excuse, but no reason that may appease Margaret came in mind.

  “I must take a maid with me, and I cannot stand the other maids who father has brought from auction,” she explained. She emphasized her dismay when she puckered her face. She watched Myra and then Margaret tilted her head to the side and examined her, as if she wanted to measure her worth. “You’ll do just fine, but I daresay, you cannot go in those rags! Albeit you’ll not be seen by many, I’ll not have people think we cannot afford clothing my maid in something other than oddments!”

  Indeed, Myra thought. She was already apprehensive about attending a social affair, and she couldn’t imagine arriving at any event in her present fashion. “Honestly, Miss— um, Margaret, I truly believe I’m not the right person for attending you.” Surrendering to the humility of being a servant proved hard enough for her, but to attend a gala that reflected back to the life she once lived asked too much.

  Margaret peered into her eyes and her temper came unleashed. “Myra, this is not a request,” she said sternly. Myra flinched at the young girl’s forceful demeanor, and Margaret immediately relented and expressed her regret. “Oh, I’m sorry, Myra. You must excuse my harshness.” She wrapped an arm around her, hugged, and smiled. “But I must insist you attend. Goodness, if not you, who else is there? Certainly you see my dilemma.”