Bound to Serve (13 page)

“I’ll be back before dark,” he said after standing there in silence for a moment.

She nodded.

“Look after the boys.”

“I will.”

“And the ash boxes, Elspeth. They’ll need…”

“To be emptied and cleaned. I know. I’ve put that on the top of my list of things to do this afternoon.”

More silence.

“Yes. Well. I’m off.”

He turned and walked away, speaking his farewells to the boys who were entering the kitchen as he left.

“Father’s dressed up.” Colin walked over and tugged on Elspeth’s skirts. “Is he going to church?”

“No,” Elspeth said. “He’s going for tea.”

“For tea?”

“Yes, my nosy little stoat,” she said, guiding him to the table. “And if you’re a good lad I shall fix you some with your lunch today.”

“I don’t like tea,” he said.

“What about honey and milk then?”

“Warmed up?” the child asked hopefully.

“Warmed up,” she agreed and smiled over at Harry. “For the both of you.”

Colin smiled but Harry still looked troubled. Elspeth hoped she had gotten through to him and that the lad would not say anything to his father.

The afternoon passed slowly for Elspeth. After lunch she sent the boys to play in the parlor as she cleaned the ash boxes. As expected it was dirty work that left her covered with soot, and she was pleased when she had time enough before Clifford came home to at least wash her face and change her garments. The next day was wash day, and it couldn’t come fast enough for her.

She was putting a roast on the spit when the master of the house arrived back home. Elspeth tried not to look at him, although she was burning with curiosity to search his face and learn something – anything – that would give her a clue as to how things had gone. Had he been intrigued? Smitten? Disappointed?

“I’ll take dinner in my study tonight,” he said.

Elspeth’s back was to him.

“Sir?”

“You heard me,” he said. “In my study.”

“As you wish.”

She heard a door shut down the hall and stood, looking at where he’d been standing. Her heart ached as she realized she’d been looking forward to serving him and the boys their evening meal. He’d allowed her to eat with them, and even when he was silent and broody she still enjoyed his company. What did it mean that he was to be absent from the table?

She tried not to think too much of it as she finished her day’s chores and prepared the dinner plates. After settling the boys in at the table she took a tray of food down the hall to Clifford’s study and knocked on the door.

“Dinner, sir,” she said.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and found him standing by the fire.

“Put the tray on the table by the window,” he said.

Elspeth obediently walked over and did as she was instructed. When she stood, however, she saw him closing the door she’d entered.

Clifford Harker stood in front of it and crossed his hands behind his back.

Elspeth turned and faced him, unsure of what was going on.

“What did you say to my son today?” he asked.

She looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Harry. During lessons he said he said you are more to this family than a maid, regardless of what I may think.” He paused. “A rather bold statement for a child, don’t you think?”

Elspeth felt her heart sink. Harry had ignored her appeal.

“Harry is no ordinary child, sir. He’s very…”

“Young. Too young to understand. Young enough to be manipulated by a treacherous maid.”

“Treacherous…” She felt herself breath the word in disbelief and shook her head, fixing him with a look of undisguised disgust. “You think I would sway a child to assure myself a better position?”

“I have only dealt with well-bred ladies. I have little experience with your kind. I admit I am not entirely sure of what your kind is capable of.”

“You bastard!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, her Irish temper rising to such a pitch her face burned with it. “How dare you!”

She repeated the words even as he advanced on her, his face at least as furious as her own.

“How dare I?” he asked, grabbing her and shaking her. “How dare you profane me, servant!”

She made to jerk away. “Servant I may be. Uneducated I may be. Ill-bred I may be. But I still have enough human decency to abstain from accusing people of that which they would never do, and enough intelligence to realize that children often observe and understand far more than we give them credit for.”

Elspeth glared at him, hating her master now as much as she’d thought she’d loved him moments before.

“No,” she hissed. “I would never do such a thing. And even though I may be more than a maid to Harry and Colin and am proud of it, I want to be nothing more to such a horrible man as you. I misjudged you, Clifford Harker. I thought you were a decent man. But you are not. You are
not
!”

Something flitted through his eyes – hurt, injury, regret? Elspeth could not tell, but it was there. Then it was gone, veiled over by dark anger.

“I knew the moment I saw you that you were a willful girl,” he said, dragging her to the table. He pushed the tray of food she’d just placed there to the floor and shoved her over it, pinning her hands to the small of her back as he raised her skirts.

Elspeth braced himself as he began to spank her, his hard hand slamming into the soft skin of her bottom again and again. But even as she felt tears of pain sting her eyes she found she could not cry. Instead she just lay there, making no sound as tears leaked from her eyes as she let her bottom absorb the pain which seemed to travel deeper and deeper inside of her until it found a heart that seemed to always have room for more.

He must have hit her a dozen times before he realized she wasn’t resisting, wasn’t crying, wasn’t responding.

And then Clifford Harker let go and stumbled back. Elspeth held her position, her passiveness a further indictment of his cruelty.

“Get up,” he croaked.

She stood and pushed her skirts down, smoothing them.

“Are you done then, sir?” she asked.

He said nothing, but only blinked as he looked away. His expression was pained and confused.

But still Elspeth felt nothing for him but contempt.

“I’ll clear this mess,” she said, and walked stiffly over to where the shattered dishes lay. Pulling the tray to her she put the pieces of broken glassware and food on it as he watched from the shadows, his chest heaving with ragged breath. What small pieces remained she cleaned up with the whisk broom.

“I’ll not bring you another tray,” she said as she moved past him. “If you want dinner you’ll find it in the kitchen.”

Would he follow her, drag her back into the study, beat her for further impertinence? Would he cast her out in the wintery landscape with not even a letter? Would he drive her away?

Elspeth knew he could. But she could not bring herself to care except when she went back in the room and saw the boys looking at her with fearful expressions. They had heard. She knew they had heard, and her heart sank. Colin flew to her and when he did se put the tray down and hugged him back. Harry came to her then, his arms even tighter around her waist.

She did not see Clifford Harker enter the room but knew by his older son’s expression that his father was behind them.

The boy looked fierce.

“You’re cruel,” he said as he ran from the room. “You’re cruel and vile and I don’t care if you beat me the way I hard you beat her. I wish I had died with mother. It would be easier than losing someone else who cares about me.”

His voice broke like a wave over the last words and now Elspeth did cry, silently into the back of her hand as she squeezed Colin on the shoulder and moved across the room. She heard Clifford gasp, stomp towards the door after his son and then stop.

“Elspeth,” he began, his voice strained and choked. But she just raised her hand and shook her head. She could not talk to him. She was too confused, too hurt, too wounded and heartsick and …

She did not want to turn and see Clifford Harker’s face, for she knew what she would see in it. To hear those words from Harry had struck her to the core. What had it been like for Clifford, given that they came from his own son. Even a hard of solid rock could not bear that kind of blow.

When she finally turned she knew she was right. He was clutching the sideboard, his knuckles nearly white. His face was distorted into a mask of renewed grief so terrible that Colin had retreated to the far side of the kitchen and stood watching with fearful eyes.

Who should she go to? She made her choice.

“Come now, Colin,” she said. “Your father needs some time alone.”

She wanted to let herself care, to let herself care enough to go to him. But she would not allow it. What he’d said to her in the study – even if he regretted it now – was unforgiveable. If he wanted the line between them to be cut, he had done it. There was no going back, she thought.

At least now, she knew where she stood, where they stood. And that, perhaps, would make it easier for both of them to get on with lives that were joined by the household duties, yet were destined to be separate where it mattered the most.

Chapter Eleven

He called on Prudence the next day. Clifford did not tell Elspeth and the boys that was where he was going, but she knew. And she was pretty sure Colin knew, too. After his father left, she found him in the upstairs window seat using a paring knife to deface the sill. With a heavy sigh, Elspeth sat down and put her hands over his. Gently she took his wrist and put her hand on the knife. The boy held onto it for a few moments, not looking at her. But she tugged softly until he loosened his grip.

“Col, why would you do such a thing?”

The boy said nothing, only shrugged.

Elspeth dropped the knife in her pocket and sighed.

“There are some things in life we cannot control,” she said. “You cannot control your father; you’re just a lad. He’s going to do what he’s going to do, Colin. I cannot control him either, nor would I even if I could. I can do nothing but promise you that I will stay here by your side – and by your brother’s – for as long as I am allowed.”

“She’s not as pretty as you,” the boy said, looking out the window. “If she comes here she will be jealous and make you leave.”

Elspeth smiled at the lad’s keen insight into the female mind. She leaned forward and put her arm around him.

“Perhaps not,” she said. “If her father only has eyes for her it should not matter how pretty the maid is.”

She stood. “Besides,” she said. “Beauty fades and leaves us all withered in time, like those poor bare trees. Look at the birds on the branches, how they peck for a little food. Shall I share a recipe I used to use to feed them?”

That snapped Colin out of his doldrums. The two of them collected Harry from the nursery where he was building a castle from blocks and headed to the kitchen. Elspeth sang Irish songs to them as she melted fat in a pot and added millet and other seeds she’d gleaned from the fields on her weekly walks. The boys watched as she added the seeds to the melted fat and then poured the mix into a wooden mold she helped the boys to fashion from scrap wood.

“Now what?” Harry asked.

“Now we wait,” she said. “The fat has to harden and when it does we hang it in a tree for the wee birdies to eat.”

Colin climbed into a chair and put his folded arms on the table, staring at the mold as if his gaze could make the fat congeal faster.

Elspeth cleaned up the mess, feeling a bittersweet stab in her heart as she went about her tasks. She felt so comfortable here; they boys were so easy to converse with, such lovely warm little lads. It took great effort to remind herself of her own advice – she was here by Clifford Harker’s leave alone. Should he – as his son feared – decide he no longer wanted her in his house then she’d be gone as quickly as she’d arrived.

She tried to think on that for a moment, on what it would be like to leave those little boys forever, to never see them again. To never see their father. She pushed the thought from her mind; it hurt too much.

In mid-afternoon, Clifford returned. Colin was cool to him still, but Harry ran to him when he entered. His father hoisted him up with smile and ruffled his hair. He seemed to be in exceptionally find spirits.

“Be happy for him,” Elspeth told herself when she felt a stab of disappointment.

“Elspeth.” His tone was light, even with her. She turned.

“Have we a very fat turkey?” he asked.

“We have three, sir,” she answered. “I fed them this morning.”

“Ah, good. Prepare one for supper tonight. We’ll be having a guest for dinner.”

“Very well, sir,” she said.

Elspeth did not ask who, and she could tell he was expecting her to. Why? So he could scold her for prying into matters that were none of her concern?

So Prudence Alder was coming to dinner? Elspeth hoped she would not be accompanied by the preacher’s wife.

“Just one guest?” she asked.

“Just one,” he said.

She tried to hide her relief. She hated the way Mrs. Habersham made her feel.

“I’ll see to it once I get the boys started on their lessons,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I’ll see to their schooling today, Elspeth. I want this dinner to have your full attention.”

“As you wish.”

She turned and donned the apron she used whenever she had to butcher one of the fowl in the yard for a meal. It was not her favorite task, but a necessary one from time to time. Over the apron she put on an older cape and went outside.

Elspeth would rather the older man who worked intermittently in Clifford Harker’s employ be about to dispense with the turkey. But he was not.

She picked up a pan of grain and walked to behind the shed. A dusting of snow had fallen overnight and her felt crunched on the ground. Elspeth shook the pan and the turkeys came forward, a tom and two fat hens.

Her heart lurched. The birds trusted her. That made it harder. She eyed the hens. There were two – an older hen and a younger one. The older one was larger but the younger one would be more tender and more than adequate for the purpose.