Bound to Serve (3 page)

“Ah, you’re here then!” His accent was similar to hers, but more of a lowland dialect. James jogged over. “Welcome lass.”

“Thank you,” she said, pleased to see a kind face. “Mr. Harker told me to seek out a James.”

“Humphrey James, aye,” he said. “That be me.”

Elspeth felt a bit of guilt taking this man away from his duties to to tote water, but knew doing it herself would be exhausting. To her relief, her fellow servant was all too pleased to oblige, chatting with her as he filled pot after pot with water and then hauled the heated liquid up the stairs.

They’d made small talk about home and her trip and the differences she could expect in weather and life in general now that she’d arrived to begin her service. But Elspeth detected a certain cautiousness in James that kept him from mentioning their master. And while she was curious about whether Harker was unpleasant all the time, she again followed her instincts and did not put this question to the older man.

She was more than happy to disrobe and sink into the oak tub after folding her filthy traveling clothes, which she planned to wash later. The heat of the water seemed to permeate to her very core, and to her delight the soap had a soft, delicate scent. As she sunk beneath the water and reemerged to begin soaping her face, hair and arms she wondered if the soap had belonged to the late Mrs. Harker.

She looked at the scented cake, musing. Had she rubbed it across her skin at the end of a long day caring for her husband and sons? Had she sat in this very tub, dreaming of the day when her lads would grow into strong men, never realizing she would not live to see that happen?

The though made Elspeth sad, and a bit scared, too. What was to say her quest for a new life would not end in a pine box buried under a simple marker in the church cemetery she’d passed on the way here? Life was full of uncertainties. As a child playing on the moors her thoughts had never carried her beyond the distant hills. And now here she was in a land she never knew existed until a year ago.

Elspeth stood, feeling the water slide from her body. She squeezed more from her long locks and reached for a rough cloth to dry herself. James had been kind enough to build a fire in the small room she no occupied. It was Spartan but sufficient for her needs – a bed stood by the wall and a small table across from it. A washbowl sat on top, a chamber pot underneath. A wardrobe stood against the opposite wall. Elspeth moved now to put her things in it and sighed when they didn’t even fill a quarter of the space. She’d brought all she had, but it wasn’t much. Hopefully she could find a way to beg or earn some fabric from her new master so she could sew some more clothing to replace the garments she knew would become worn from hard work.

She’d just finished dressing when James came to take the tub away. He smiled at her as he dipped the first bucket of water to haul back downstairs, murmuring something about her bringing something of the freshness and beauty of Scotland back into his life. Elspeth smiled, convinced now that even if she wasn’t presentable to gentry she’d do with her peers.

She remembered then that she was supposed to meet with Harker after she’d eaten, so she checked her reflection in the looking glass before going downstairs. Her hair was pulled back from her face with two abalone combs given to her by her grandmother. Her heart-shaped face stared back at her, the skin clean now and creamy white. The roses showed a bit in her cheeks; she was glad for that. So many of the women who’d journeyed with her had arrived sallow and jaundiced.

Elspeth padded downstairs, the simple blue gown rustling around feet now nestled into kidskin slippers she’d saved for work.

It had grown cloudy out and an oil lamp burned on the center of the table, the flame’s reflection dancing merrily on the wall. Elspeth was hungry, but took even less food than she intended. Her stomach was nervous with the thought of meeting Harker in his study, and what’s more everything seemed a test. Would he come later and take note of the amount of food she’d eaten? She didn’t want to risk it. She chewed her food slowly and dashed it down with a bit of cold milk from the pitcher next to the food. The small amount of nourishment filled her with gratitude and a bit of strength, which she knew she would need to carry her to the study. Leaving the kitchen, she walked back up to the front of the house and stood in front of the doorway she’d seen Harker disappear behind earlier.

She took a deep breath and knocked. For a moment all was silent save for the creaks and groans of the house and then she heard his voice.

“Come in. Close the door behind you.”

Elspeth opened the door and walked into the room. He was standing with his back to her, looking at the fire and when she shut the door again he turned to face her.

His eyes seemed to widen a bit in a brief moment of what could have been perceived as approval or appreciation. But it passed as quickly as it appeared, and Harker’s expression resumed the same unyielding sternness she’d experienced from the time she’d met him.

“An improvement,” he said, his voice flat. “I expect you to maintain this level of grooming at all times. It shows discipline. Something I insist upon. And something I have already observed that you lack.”

Elspeth looked down so he would not see the color flaming her face. “Mr. Harker, beg pardon but you are wrong.”

“Master,” he said. “My peers call me Mr. Harker. You are not my peer. You are my servant. In my presence you will address me as Master.”

“Master,” she said.

“And beg nothing of me when you are insolent.” He began to pace, walking around her. “Beg not understanding, or charity or mercy. You were rude to my guest today, and set a most unsavory example for my sons, your charges.” He stopped behind her. “Would you disagree?”

She could feel him at her back. Should she turn to face him? She did not know. Elspeth’s heart beat hard in her chest as she answered. “Yes, master,” she said. “Yes, I would disagree.”

He grabbed her before she realized what was even happening, his large arm wrapping around her waist in one sweeping motion that pulled her backwards. Elspeth’s first thought was that he was going to violate her and kill her, and she cursed the ill fortune that had seen her go across the sea to fall into the hands of a man whose grief had transformed him into a monster.

But just as quickly she realized she was not going to be raped, but merely beaten as she found herself face down and over Clifford Harker’s lap. She yelped in surprise as she felt the hem of her skirt being raised. She was bare underneath, and her face flamed red in embarrassment. No man had ever seen her without clothing, and here was a man she did not even know glimpsing not just her bare bottom but likely the fleecy pouch of flesh between her now scissoring legs. And although she knew she should hold still, Elspeth could not. This was wrong. She had not done anything to deserve this. But it mattered not what she thought. For her master’s hard hand was descending was descending in a fury on her soft, white skin, marking it with heated imprints of his fingers and palm. Elspeth’s cries of rage quickly gave way to wails of pain as he spanked the defiance out of her. He was – as he promised – merciless and continued unabated until Elspeth was apologizing and spewing apologies and admissions of wrongdoing she did not really even believe she’d committed. Her bottom felt like it was on fire, and when she could take no more went limp in total submission across his broad lap. Only then did Harker stop and drag his sobbing servant to her feet.

“Do not ever, ever disagree with me,” he said. “You are not my peer. You are merely a servant in my household. Your only worth is in what you provide. I do not care to hear your voice unless you are spoken to, and should you defy me or embarrass me again as you did today I will gladly make what you just experienced seem like the gentlest of strokes.”

Elspeth swayed a little on her feet from the shock of what she had just experienced. Her just-washed hair was now damp again with salty tears that left sticky trails on her face. Under her skirt, her bottom felt like it was on fire. She shook from head to toe with a mixture of indignation and fear – mostly fear.

“Elspeth, look at me.”

It seemed too much to ask. She did not want to look at him. She wanted to run from him. But where would she go? She felt trapped, caged, demoralized and helpless in the face of the reality of her situation. She had no choice but to obey this man, her master. So summoning what remained of her strength, she looked up at him with eyes swimming in hurt and confusion.

“My sons are in the nursery. They’ve been there this whole time, quiet and obedient. The require care I cannot give. They know what I expect you to now understand, that I will not be trifled with, defied or crossed. You will go to them now and attend to any other needs they may have. You will be attentive, but in no way maternal. I shall not have them confused.”

He turned back to the fire. “I expect you can handle them on your own. As for me, I have work to do and do not expect to have to hear from you – or them – unless there is good cause.”

Elspeth looked at the broad back, the rigid stance and turned – for the first time filled with a sense of willingness and purpose – to do her duties. For her master was right about one thing. They obviously required care he could not give. And even if she had to do it surreptitiously, she would make sure the wee lads would somehow know again what their father had forgotten – the meaning of kindness and love.

Chapter Three

Elspeth stood outside the nursery door, blinking hard and wiping her eyes until she was sure most of the traces of sadness had been eradicated from her face. She did not know whether the boys had heard the punishment she’d just received; she certainly hoped not. For despite what the dreadful Mr. Harker said, she would not have them see her as a strong adult they could rely on, and not just another member of the nursery subject to the same punishment they themselves were subject to.

She opened the door slowly to find the boys on the floor playing with a set of wooden farm animals.

“No, no, Harry!” The older of the boys took one of the animals from where his little brother had perched it on top of a trunk and put it back in a pen fashioned from blocks. “The goat goes in the fence!”

But Harry was undeterred. Plucking the toy away from his older brother he put it back where it had originally been. “Not the goats down the lane! I’ve seen them in trees!”

“Fibber.” Colin scowled at his brother. “Goats can’t climb trees.”

“Actually they can.” Elspeth smiled and walked over, settling herself on the floor beside her charges. “Back home I’ve seen goats sleeping on the roofs of houses. One once fell through a hole into my friend’s kitchen.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes grew wide. But Colin looked more skeptical.

“How did the goat get on the roof?” His hand reached for the wooden goat but this time he didn’t take it from the trunk, and instead rearranged it slightly.

“Well, my friend Fiona’s father used to park his cart up by the house. The goat simply jumped from the cart to the top of the house.”

Colin shook his head. “Even if you put a cart by our house a goat couldn’t get on the roof.” He paused, glowering. He looked very much like his father – angry and inflexible. Elspeth offered another gentle smile.

“Ah, this is true. But your mistake is assuming that all houses are as grand as this one. In my country, the houses are made of stone and are very, very low. And grass grows on the rooftops. Or they are layered with straw. So it’s easy to see why a goat might like to sleep on top of them.”

“A house with a grass roof!” Harry began to laugh as if this were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“Sounds like lodging for rabbits,” Colin said, casting his younger brother a look that suggested he did not approve of silliness.

“We stayed snug as rabbits,” said Elspeth, and then leaned in to Harry, whispering. “Until goats fell through the roof.” Harry erupted into more laughter and Colin regarded them with a glare that carried just the hint of jealousy.

“Good,” Elspeth thought to herself. “Let him see that his nurse can be fun. Let him see that if he doesn’t thaw, Harry will have all that fun to himself.”

Elspeth forced herself to turn her attention to Harry, occasionally casting glances to Colin, who was now holding a toy horse.

“Did you ever have a horse on the roof?”

Elspeth rewarded the interaction with a smile. “No, Colin, we did not,” she said. “But my father once let me bring a one in the house.”

“He let you have a horse in the house?” Colin raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said your house was small.”

“It wasn’t a full sized horse. It was a baby one – a baby pony, actually – that had fallen into the bog and gotten soaked. We took it in to warm it up. My ma fed it hot peppermint tea.”

Now Colin was laughing, too. “A pony having tea in the house? Are you from some magical land?”

“Aye. It’s called Scotland,” Elspeth rose, extending a hand to each boy. “And if you’ll be good lads and take your baths then I shall tell you some fairie stories from my homeland. Would you like that?”

“No.” Harry was now playing the obstinate role. “Fairies are for girls.”

“You clearly know nothing of fairies then,” Elspeth said. “If you think they are flitty, flowery things then you’ll be surprised to learn that they come in all shapes and sizes and can be quite naughty and even dangerous.”

“Really? Tell us more!” Harry was jumping up and down, and even Colin looked interested.

“Not until your bath,” Elspeth said. “James has already drawn the water for you.”

***

Harker did not speak to Elspeth when he came in to preside over his son’s prayers, but she did not care. After the unjustified harshness, eliciting a few smile from Colin and Harry felt like something of a victory over their father’s excessive stoicism.

As she turned and shut the door she saw him standing there, watching his children’s recitation in stone-faced silence. She waited until after the door had shut with a soft click to gently shake her head in confusion. Elspeth knew it must be difficult for her employer, raising two small sons without the company of a wife he must have loved very much. But it seemed to her for their sakes – as well as his own - that he would seek to find some measure of happiness in their delightful company.