Bittersweet Endeavors Read online

  “What of Lucia?” Myra offered. “She is so well-mannered and very conscientious to everyone’s needs,” she praised. “I’m sure she—”

  ”Certainly not,” Margaret said aghast. “I’d sooner take a field hand as my maid!”

  “But Lucia’s polite, intelligent, and has such a sweet disposition—”

  Margaret swiftly closed the door. She covered Myra’s mouth with one quick swoop of her hand, and Myra’s eyes widened at Margaret’s abruptness, as well as her audacity.

  “You mustn’t speak her name so loudly here,” Margaret cautioned.

  “But why?” she finally asked after Margaret released her hand from her mouth. Myra didn’t understand why they wanted her there and yet not let anyone make mention of her name. It made no sense, Myra thought.

  “Tis the way it is, is all.” Margaret walked to her bed and gathered a gown into her arms. She shook it lightly, ridding it of wrinkles. What about this dress?” Margaret asked, as she whirled in a circle and raised a green satin gown in front of her. “Father ordered it from London and it arrived just this week! Isn’t it just splendid?”

  “Aye, tis a very lovely gown.” Myra bit her tongue. She wanted more answers about Lucia and the Preston family but knew Margaret would take all efforts in being evasive.

  “I wonder what Cassandra will be wearing tonight?” Margaret’s dull brown eyes widened and she sighed. Myra had frequently heard Margaret and her sisters’ senseless chatter about the girl, insomuch that Myra neared to believe that the sun rose and set on Cassandra.

  “She’s the most beautiful woman in Jamestown! Perhaps the entire continent! Oh, Myra, that’s why I want you to go! She’ll surely have at least two maids in attendance, but they are always such incompetent fools! She’ll envy me for having someone as efficient as you!”

  Myra smiled, but the more Margaret prattled on about Cassandra, the more Myra deduced that Cassandra amounted as nothing more than the town prig. Who needed two personal maids for such a small event? Their small gatherings didn’t compare to the lavish affairs in London where it necessitated such extravagance. While at Brunnington, Myra never found need for more than one personal maid, even at the galas hosted by The King. Oftentimes, her one maid proved more than she preferred.

  “I cannot wait until Seth and she marries,” Margaret added excitedly.

  Myra dropped the gold-laced hairbrush from her hand. “I wasn’t aware that young Mister Preston is betrothed.” Myra displayed indifference but her noon meal of bread and porridge turned bitter in her belly by Margaret’s declaration.

  215

  “Well,” Margaret laughed. “Tis a secret, so you mustn’t tell. Father spoke with Cassandra’s father earlier today, and ‘twould seem the two are playing go-betweens.”

  “Cassandra shall make a good match for young Mister Preston, I presume,” Myra said. And she would, Myra conceded. Yet it didn’t stop her from being distraught by Margaret’s announcement. It shouldn’t, though, Myra realized. Seth’s interest shown toward her only amounted for the purpose of belittling and goading. Even the times he had shown a whit of affection, it mattered naught. There couldn’t ever be a future for them, not when she planned her return to England and he’d remain in Jamestown. Nay, she concluded, she didn’t give a fig who Seth Preston married.

  “Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure he’ll be agreeable with such an arrangement. Yet, if father tells him that it’s best, he’ll obey.”

  “Does he always comply with your father’s wishes, even when he doesn’t agree?”

  “Of course! We all do,” she exclaimed, surprised. Margaret jumped from the bed and moved towards the window. She watched as the phaeton made its way in front and stopped readied at the front of the Preston’s new manor, in which they now resided.

  “But marriage? What if your brother doesn’t care for Cassandra? What of love?”

  “Oh, that’ll come in time, I’m sure. How couldn’t it? My brother is perhaps the most handsome man in Jamestown, and Cassandra is indubitably the most beautiful woman. They’re a perfect match!”

  “What of you, Margaret? You’re nearing the age of marriage. Are you willing to blindly accept who your father chooses?”

  “Tis not a problem in need of concern,” Margaret said, and grinned mischievously.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I’m marrying Mister Zachary Frederickson.” She exaggerated a loud sigh.

  “Your father is allowing you a choice but not giving that same consideration to his son?”

  “My father doesn’t know. Yet I’ve nudged him in the direction of Mister Frederickson. He’s a fine gentleman who has openly spoken to me about his intent to take my hand.” An ornery gleam pied within Margaret’s eyes and she laughed. She twisted a bland red curl around her finger and looked into the looking-glass on the vanity. “He’ll soon formally ask for my hand. He’s a very fine catch, so father shalt surely be agreeable. Remember, though, Myra, you mustn’t tell anyone!”

  “Miss Margaret,” a woman called from the other side of the door after a light rap. “Your father sent me, and he said he is taking his leave soon and it’ll be with or without you. So ready yourself posthaste.”

  Margaret’s unsatisfied wail rang out and she stormed across the room. “Oh, I’ll never be ready in time!” From inside the bureau, Margaret grabbed a pale yellow dress that had faded by time and wear and tossed it to Myra. “Dress into that without delay.”

  As instructed, Myra stepped behind the privacy wall and slipped into the dress. It fit perfectly, but yet plain and drab. But what did it matter? Certainly no one would know her there. Aside from Seth, and for him, she wished that she was displayed in all her glory, frills, and lace. What would he think of her then? She silently admonished herself for having thoughts of him…again.

  Another light tap came rapping on the door, and Myra was grateful for the interruption.

  “Hurry, Margaret!” her sister, Patience, called from the hall. “Father said we are leaving now! Make haste so we’re not all late.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes heavenward and stomped her foot on the hardwood floor. “I heard the first time!” she shouted.

  The two sisters bickered and played in equal time. It made her miss her sister, Mary, all the more. She’d have given her weight in gold if allowed a moment like that with her sister again.

  “I shall be there once I readied myself into a beauty that can equal Cassandra,” Margaret yelled at the closed door.

  “Even God Himself could not allot that much time!” her sister replied.

  Although not spoken aloud, Myra agreed with Patience. Margaret, even at her best, couldn’t match Cassandra’s supposed beauty. Myra didn’t know whether she should feel pity or amusement for Margaret’s fascination with Cassandra. More so, she couldn’t help but wonder if Seth was equally as captivated by the woman.

  * * *

  “Remember, you must stay out of sight from the other guests, Myra.” Pointing towards a ladder, she continued. “There’s a small loft overlooking the great room. You can stow away there and watch the festivities.”

  Myra started declining her offer, but after she listened to Margaret’s prattle about Cassandra, her interest was piqued. She wondered if Cassandra would prove to be as lovely and graceful, insomuch that she, too, would be willing to worship at her feet as the Preston girls.

  “But remember, you must return and help me freshen up when we break.”

  Myra nodded in agreement and Margaret rushed off toward the entrance of the main hall and offered the newly wedded couple well wishes.

  The wooden ladder creaked in protest when she ascended and Myra stopped, her breath caught in her throat. After a few more rungs, she’d be afforded a good view of the throng of people, especially Seth. Although Myra came with Margaret and the Preston family, Seth accompanied Cassandra and her parents. A twinge of jealousy struck her and she tried to push it away.

  Once she reached the top step, she pee
ked around the corner and perused the loft. Being dark, her eyes took a moment and adjusted to the dim lighting. Once done, Myra looked at her surroundings more thoroughly, which showed only a scant amount of furnishings. Two wooden chairs with ornately carved arms sat on a stretch of rush matting. Crawling on her hands and knees, Myra reached the banister where she looked over to below. She tipped her nose over the edge and looked down at the guests. A pang of loneliness swept through her at the familiar sight of a social event, albeit small in comparison of the ones she had been accustomed attending back home. She saw Margaret and envy coursed through her veins. As much as she protested coming, she longed to join the celebration below. She took a moment and reminisced about the life she once lived and recalled many joyous socials at Brunnington. Happy memories of festive occasions and times that held promise and love. A few tears escaped, but she forced them away and returned her attention below.

  215

  A white flowing gown glimmered in the candlelight and caught Myra’s attention. The silk dress stunned her by every measure, neckline to hem, but the woman who wore it outshined the dress a hundredfold. Long, golden locks of hair smoothed over the top of her head and displayed impeccable blonde ringlets of curls that fashioned down the woman’s slender back. Myra didn’t need an introduction. The striking woman was no other than Cassandra, and to her chagrin, Margaret hadn’t overstated her beauty. When Seth approached the woman, Myra narrowed her eyes into a scrutinizing stare. She almost didn’t recognize him dressed in his fashionable Rhinegraves and a silk shirt that displayed many yards of ribbons looped around his shoulders. Plus as fashion dictated since the restoration of her cousin’s crown, he donned a shoulder length periwig with long waves of curly blonde hair. She had never seen him, or any other man, look more handsome. Margaret was right, the two made a perfect pair and jealousy welled within her. He offered his arm and the woman took it, and they advanced toward a table that displayed an arrangement of food that would appeal to the most discriminative appetite. Myra turned her head and slid down the wall and met the floor. She wished that she could run down the steps and into Seth’s arms. She wanted to announce that she was Lady Myra of Brunnington and not a wretched lowly maid. Perhaps then she could command as much attention as Cassandra received from him. Such whimsical thoughts were blatherskite, she scolded herself. Myra, Lady of Brunnington, was long dead, and the plain, impoverished Myra was all that remained. Even if Seth Preston would have interest in her, despite her present lowly state, his father wouldn’t ever allow them together. Only a woman capable of advancing his family’s name and reputation would be appropriate enough for his son. That would soon be Cassandra. All the anguish inside seized her senses and she wept. Time passed by and she didn’t know how long she had sat and cried. The more she swiped her tears, the quicker they appeared.

  “Are you all right, Myra?”

  Myra startled by the sound of his voice and quickly stood up and readied herself for bolting. She realized she had risen in full view of the guests, and she quickly knelt down out of sight.

  “There’s no need hiding.” Seth’s voice was soothing, as if speaking with a child, and he smiled at her. “Especially when you look as beautiful as you do tonight.” He stooped down beside her and thumbed a teardrop from her eye. Embarrassed, Myra covered her face and hid within the folds of her hands. His pity was more than she was able to bear.

  “Why are you weeping?” He took her trembling hands into his and pulled them away from her face. “You feel warm.” He sounded alarmed and felt her head with the back of his hand. “Are you ill? Is that what ails you?”

  “Nay, I’m fine. Please, just let me alone, Seth.” She realized her error in using his forename and corrected herself by adding, “Mister Preston.”

  “Seth.”

  “But you,” she began, but he raised a finger and gently placed it onto her lips and silenced her. She pulled away and started toward the ladder, but Seth held her hand and prevented her escape. The tears continued shedding, and no matter how much she willed them to stop, the tears unrelentingly fell down her cheeks.

  “Do you miss England? Your family? Is that why you’re weeping?” Seth pulled her into his arms and held her with tenderness. “I’m sorry, Myra. I know how hard this must be for you being here, in the colonies, all alone.”

  She felt his lips press against her forehead, and her cheeks warmed by the comforting yet inappropriate action. Worse than being embarrassed, she was offended by his gesture since the woman he escorted— the woman he’d soon marry—awaited him down below. She pushed him away.

  “I must go.” She began to rise from the floor but he held her firmly in place. “You need to go as well. Cassandra is awaiting your return.”

  “Cassandra?” Seth grinned and glanced over the balcony. “Have you been spying on me from up here?” he teased. “I’m flattered.”

  “I wasn’t spying. Truly, I wasn’t. I…Well, I…I was watching the festivities — everyone at the party, that is.” Myra felt a surge of heat warm her cheeks. “Margaret said I could,” she added in her defense.

  “And what do you think of Cassandra?”

  “She’s very beautiful.” The confession came easy. No one who viewed Cassandra could state otherwise.

  “Aye, she is,” Seth conceded. “Did you know my father plans a union between her and me?”

  “Tis not my business.” Myra attempted her departure down the ladder again. She had seen and heard enough about his interest in the girl that would soon be his wife. Yet Seth, again, prevented her leave when he gripped her wrist tighter. He tugged her closer toward him until they were face to face. His breath flowed warm and sweet across her face.

  “Nay, I guess not, but I’d like your opinion nonetheless.”

  “You’d like my opinion about your upcoming marriage?” She didn’t hide her surprise. “Tis your choice if you wish to find a wife in the same manner as procuring a trinket.” She looked at him a moment before she continued. “That being the case, you exhibit fine taste in ornaments.” Her tone clearly displayed her irritation, as well as her jealousy, and she hated herself the moment she realized it.

  Seth smiled wide and released her. He started for the ladder, but returned and faced her. He softly brushed his finger down her cheek and across her chin, raising it slightly as if readying her for a kiss.

  She wondered if he was testing her. He had explicitly pointed out the Blue Law which stated unmarried person were not allowed kissing. She swallowed hard and apprehension flowed through her from head to heel. She looked deep into his eyes and waited — and God forgive her — but she wanted that kiss. The shimmer of candles from the chandelier above the great room swayed and highlighted the ornery glint in his bright blue eyes. Closing her eyelids tight, she wished for him to take advantage of her vulnerable state and initiate the kiss. Yet by the time she reopened her eyes, he had already quit the room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The four women who shared Myra’s small abode left long before she awoke. Gone about their daily duties at the Preston home, but Lucia remained with her, well past time in reporting for her duties.

  “Why hadn’t I swallowed my pride and asked Margaret for dry clothing?” Her cheeks burned hot with fever. A tightness in her lungs squeezed at her chest and she released a raspy cough. Wheeze-filled breathing followed and she folded her arms over her chest. “This is surely the result of wearing that wet dress last week in the cold!”

  “Oh, Myra, I must ask them to send for a physician.” Tears of worry filled Lucia’s eyes as she held Myra’s hand.

  “Nay, I’ll not have them pay the physician’s stipend. It shall be added onto my servitude time. As you very well know, I must return to Brunnington.” She coughed again.

  “Please, you cannot let this go. You could die, Myra,” she cried. “Then where would that leave you? You’d be of no help to Mary then.”

  “Please, help me out of bed ‘fore we’re in trouble for dallying too long.” Myra smiled
when she accomplished standing on her feet with no support. The room spun but she focused on Lucia’s mesmerizing blue eyes so she’d stay upright.

  “See? I’m perfectly fine,” she assured. “You go on ahead.” Myra reached for her wool dress and slipped it over her shift. “Tell them I’ve awakened late and I’ll be there posthaste.”

  Lucia swept the tears from her cheeks and nodded. “All right, Myra, but if you get worse, you must tell them.”

  “All right. Now off, the hour grows late.”

  The moment the door closed, Myra released the pent up cough she hid from Lucia. It shook her bones and a shiver convulsed her insomuch that it nearly toppled her. No longer capable of standing, Myra stumbled and tripped onto the floor in a stupor. Dazed, and powerless from focusing on items before her, she attempted lifting herself from the cold dirt floor. Her hands felt like ice against the ground. She drew them toward the outpouring heat that gushed from her cheeks and hoped it would warm them. Finding small comfort from the warmth, she closed her eyes.

  Time distorted. She didn’t know how long she had stayed on the floor, but as she faded in and out of consciousness, her mind found escape and journeyed back home to England. The vision brought her peace, comfort, and safety as her mother and father greeted her at the entrance of Brunnington Castle. Never had she felt such harmony in her state of being. She found her way back home and with the people she loved. Myra was happy, safe, and determined to stay.

  * * *

  “Doesn’t she know that we must keep schedules around here?” he yelled at Lucia. Seth raised his hands into the air and released a low hiss that seeped through his clenched teeth and passed by his pursed lips. “She’s been here long enough and should’ve learned some discipline by now.”

  “But—”

  Seth ignored her and stormed toward the door. Determined with retrieving her, he grabbed his overcoat from the hook. Surely she didn’t think that their encounter the previous night gave her the liberty to take leave of her duties. He wondered if she fretted over seeing him after he nearly kissed her. An unacceptable excuse, he believed. Once and for all, Seth thought with determination, she would learn that her antics were a poor reflection on him. At the rate he was going, he’d never prove to his father that he would make a good charge for their estate when the time came.