Death of a Dyer (34 page)

Mr. Lattimore ceased speaking. He looked at her with scornful impatience. “Mrs. Bowditch, if you do not cease interrupting, I will ask Mr. Potter to remove you, and one of your children can inform you of the will’s contents.”

Trembling, she returned to her seat. But her ashen cheeks and glittering tear-filled eyes promised another outburst. Grace sat in rigid silence. Richard patted his mother’s wrist.

Mr. Lattimore continued the description of the farm, his words providing a backdrop to Rees’s thoughts. But the mention of Richard’s name jolted him to attention. “To Richard, I leave all of the property I obtained from Mr. James Carleton, to do with as he chooses. I ask my friend, William Rees, to ensure this transfer of property takes place. He may determine the disposition of the other properties won at the card table as he sees fit. I rely upon his good judgment and sense of fair play to decide in the best interests of all. To compensate him for his time I leave all of my looms, any linen or wool waiting to be woven, all of my dyes, and the sum of fifty dollars.”

“What other properties?” Molly asked, staring around her. “What card games?” She looked at Potter. He shrugged, his eyes sliding away from hers. She turned to Mr. Lattimore. “What about me? “

He looked down at the parchment in front of him. “Ah, here is the phrase that refers to you. The care of my widow and her son, Benjamin, shall be the responsibility of her son, Richard.”

So, Nate knew about Dr. Wrothman, Rees thought.

“He made me a pauper? A dependent?” Molly could scarcely force out the words.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Lattimore said. “Of course, this is not so unusual a provision; many widows are left in the care of their sons. And Ben, well, your husband was persuaded that he was not Ben’s father.”

“But I took care of everything while he played with his leaves and powders!” Molly screamed. “I suffered the presence of his mistress…” She flung her hand at Rachel. “Gave her room in my home. Well, let Rachel live without my help. You’re free now, don’t return to my house.”

“That’s Grace’s house now,” Mr. Lattimore said, his dry words somehow sounding cruel.

“But where will I go?” Rachel quavered.

“I don’t care. I vow, if I see you there, I will have you shot you on sight.”

“Excuse me,” Mr. Lattimore said. “But Mrs. Bowditch, you do not own Rachel.”

“Don’t worry,” Rees said to Rachel. “I have somewhere for you to go.”

“Of course, she must return to the farm,” Grace said. “It is her home.”

“It will never work,” Rees said, knowing he spoke the truth. Molly would torture Rachel without mercy.

“Please, allow her to collect her things,” Potter said, gazing at Molly in disbelief.

“She owns nothing that my husband did not pay for.” Molly tossed her head, the short soft brown waves a shiny nimbus. “She deserves nothing further from us.”

“Mother,” Richard said in gentle reproof.

“Don’t ‘Mother’ me.” She turned on him, outraged. “I will not allow it. I will not.” She fixed her fiery gaze first upon her son and then upon her daughter and their protests withered. She rose to her feet. “Come, Richard—come, Grace.”

Grace turned a glance of abject apology upon Rachel and reluctantly followed her mother from the room.

Rees shook his head regretfully. So, that was how it would be; Molly would play the tune and Richard would dance to it. But he couldn’t entirely blame her for her anger. She was a proud woman and had just been thoroughly humiliated.

“I didn’t realize Molly possessed such a temper,” Potter said in amazement.

“I’ll wager your wife knew,” Rees said, scornfully.

“What am I going to do?” Rachel wailed.

“You’ll live with me,” Augustus said. “When I’m settled—”

“I have a more immediate solution,” Rees said. “If she won’t object to a short walk with me? I believe the Andersons will employ her.”

Rachel looked at Marsh, her expression beseeching. He in turn stared searchingly into Rees’s face. “It’s all right,” he said at last. “Go with him, Rachel. It will be all right. I trust Mr. Rees.”

“You have what you need to fulfill Mr. Bowditch’s commission,” Mr. Lattimore said to Rees. “If you have any further questions, you know where my office is. And I shall correspond regularly with Mr. Potter.”

“Very good,” Rees said. He looked at Augustus. “I’ll return very soon.”

“Don’t concern yourself over me,” Augustus said. “I plan on visiting my old master, Mr. Isaacs.” He grinned. “Wheeler’s is just across the street. I believe I can find my way to the farm on my own.”

“Don’t assume, because you are now a man of property, that you are safe,” Rees warned him. “There are almost certainly people who believe you guilty of your father’s murder.”

Some of the sparkle vanished from Augustus’s eyes. “I’ll be careful.”

Rees nodded and held the door open for Rachel. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “I know you’ll be happy with my solution.”

He offered her his arm, but she declined. As they walked through Dugard, she kept her head lowered, but her eyes darted from side to side. She was as timid as a bird, ready to take flight at any perceived threat. And Rees himself noticed a few astonished glances shot at him and his surprising companion.

He paused in front of the Contented Rooster. “The coffeehouse?” she said, her voice cracking with shock. Rees nodded and held the gate open. Now Rachel grasped his arm, gripping it like a lifeline, as they entered.

They stepped into the shadowy interior. Jack Jr. looked up from stirring up the fire. “Will you run and get your mother for me?” Rees said. Jack glanced at Rachel and shot off at top speed. Rees offered Rachel a chair but she refused with a tiny shake of her head and kept to her feet.

Susannah came out of the kitchen at a run. “Come in,” she cried. “Come in.” She stared at Rachel with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. “And who might this be?”

“This is Rachel,” Rees said. “She was the cook for the Bowditch family. You’ve eaten her food, at Nate’s memorial? I thought, since you need a cook…”

Susannah nodded and began to smile, her gaze never shifting from Rachel. “Please, sit. Let me fetch Jack.” She insisted upon seeing them comfortably seated before speeding off once again.

Rachel looked at the fire snapping on the hearth, at the few men drinking coffee and eating cake at the tables and then at Rees. “What are we doing here?”

“They need a cook. You need a position. It seemed a good fit to me.” Rachel stared at him, looked as though she might speak, and then tears sprang into her eyes. “They’re good people,” Rees said reassuringly. “You’ll be safe here. And Augustus will be right across the road.” He paused as Jack Jr. came out with coffee and tea and a plate of apple cake. Rees offered some to Rachel, but she shook her head, clenching her hands together so tightly, the knuckles paled. He helped himself.

He had eaten almost all the cake when Susannah and Jack finally appeared. They pulled up chairs to the table. Both the Andersons looked at Rachel curiously. She kept her eyes lowered, breathing rapidly with anxiety

“You did the cooking for the memorial dinner?” Jack rumbled. Rachel nodded. “Baking also?” She nodded again. Jack turned to his wife and they exchanged a glance.

“How is it that you’re not working for Mrs. Bowditch?” Susannah asked.

“The master’s will freed me,” she replied in a low voice. “Mrs. Bowditch threw me off the property.”

When both Andersons looked at Rees, he nodded in corroboration. “Not that she had that right,” he said.

“Would you be willing to work for us?” Jack rumbled. “At least for a week or so, to see how it goes?”

“My husband is telling you he doesn’t like my baking,” Susannah said, smiling at Rachel.

“She means
she
doesn’t like her baking,” Jack said.

“I don’t care for baking, that is true,” Susannah agreed.

Rees sneaked a glance at Rachel. She was staring at the Andersons in amazement.

“The cakes I ate at the memorial dinner were excellent,” Jack said.

“All my cooking is excellent,” Rachel said, attempting to join the banter. When both Jack and Susannah laughed, her rigid shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Did you taste the apple cake?” Jack asked. Rachel looked at him and then cautiously ate a tiny morsel brought to her lips by the caramel-colored fingers.

“Be honest, pray,” Susannah said.

“It’s very good,” Rachel said. Rees could see she was shading the truth.

“But yours is better?” Jack asked hopefully.

Rachel slanted a look at first Susannah and then Jack from under her lashes and nodded. “Mine is much better,” she said.

“When can you begin?” Susannah asked.

“Right now,” Rees said. He directed a pointed glance at Susannah. “Molly lost her temper. She didn’t care for the provisions of Nate’s will and Rachel caught that anger. She is not allowed even to return to the farm for her clothing.”

Susannah nodded in understanding. “Ruth left some things upstairs.” She jumped to her feet. “Come with me, Rachel, and I’ll show you to your room.”

Rachel darted a look of disbelieving joy at Rees and rose to follow her new mistress. Rees watched them cross the floor with the happy sense that this time something had worked for the best.

“I think we owe you dinner,” Jack said. “I don’t mind telling you, Suze had been struggling with the cooking.”

Rees smiled. “Maybe tomorrow. Caroline arrived with the three children this morning.”

Jack looked up in alarm. “Be careful, Will. Sam is not a man to cross.”

Rees snorted in dismissal. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-six

When Rees arrived home, he found everything quiet and only Abby in the kitchen. Even the air was still. She gestured to the backyard. When he stepped out the back door, he saw Lydia down by the cottage, her gown a dark burgundy contrast to the white of her hives. Even from the hilltop he could see the sparkle of her hair against the cap. Inhaling a deep breath, he started down the hill. He knew she saw him approaching by the quick sideways glance, but she did not speak.

“They seem to be doing well,” he said, pausing a distance away. Protected from the sun by a large oak, the hives were lined up in two rows, the landing pads out toward the kitchen garden and the southern fields.

Lydia nodded. “They survived the journey well and throve,” she said. “It’s time to take some of the honey and the combs. Winter is coming and soon they’ll be sleeping.” She turned to Rees. “And what happened at the reading of the will?”

“Nate freed Rachel and Molly Bowditch threw her off the farm.”

Lydia shook her head regretfully. “That awful jealousy,” she murmured. “And there’s no reason for it.”

“I took Rachel to the Contented Rooster and she’ll be working for them,” Rees said. “Jack invited me to dinner tomorrow, in thanks. I’d like you to accompany me.”

Lydia looked at him in astonishment, her hands tugging at her skirt. “Do you know what you’re suggesting?”

“I do.” He grinned at her. “We won’t have to post the banns; everyone in town will know in a few hours. Easier all around.” When she didn’t speak, he added anxiously, “Will you?”

“If you’re sure? Yes, of course.” She smiled and approached him, her step light. Rees held out his arm.

*   *   *

Rees began to regret his impulsive invitation as soon as he and Lydia, wearing her best dress, drove out of the drive. By the time they reached Dugard his heart was thudding. They drove the length of the town, from the southeastern tip to the coffeehouse located in the center of northernmost Water Street, and Rees felt as though every single person they passed watched them. When he glanced at Lydia she was hanging on to the wagon for dear life, her mouth clenched into a tight line. She turned her head and smiled at him, a small uncertain smile that faded as quickly as it had come.

“It will be all right.” Rees reassured both of them. “It will be all right.”

He helped her alight from the wagon, her body trembling so powerfully, he could feel her shaking, and offered her his arm.

“Come in, come in,” Susannah cried as she flung open the door. She must have been watching for Rees, but she focused all her attention now about Lydia. Her eyes rested with curiosity and surprise upon the white linen square occluding Lydia’s dark red hair. “And who is this?”

“Lydia Jane Farrell,” Rees said.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” Susannah said, her bright blue-eyed gaze lingering upon that piece of linen. “Come in, please.” She stepped aside, motion them toward Rees’s favorite table by the window.

Lydia clutched at Rees’s arm, her fingers digging painfully into the muscle. But she held her head high as they progressed through the room. It was dinnertime and busier than Rees had seen it lately. Several of the men nodded at him, curious, but the women stared avidly only at Lydia. Embarrassed color rose into her cheeks.

“I’ll fetch Jack,” Susannah said. But he, too, must have been waiting because, as she stepped toward the kitchen, he appeared with a tray with two cups, a teapot and a coffeepot.

He fumbled them onto the table, flicking his interested gaze at Lydia, and said, “Rachel wants to stop over also and greet you both. She’s wonderful, by the way.”

Rees nodded, bereft of speech. This had not been a good idea; he and Lydia were the cynosures of all eyes.

“And when is the wedding?” Susannah asked. When Rees looked at her in surprise, she said, “Really, Will, you would never introduce a woman to the entire town in this fashion unless you planned to marry.”

“Christmas, I think,” he said, glancing at Lydia for her approval.

Susannah said to Lydia, “Don’t allow this rascal to string you along. I’ve known him all my life. He’s a good man, born under the wandering foot maybe, but reliable and honest. And it’s long past time that he remarried.” Lydia smiled. Susannah looked over at Rees, who was standing in an uncomfortable silence.

“Listen to you rattling on,” Jack said. “Let our old friend sit down and eat his dinner with his future wife.”

Susannah nodded at Rees. “Of course. We prepared a wonderful ham today. Would you both care for ham?”