To Love Anew (6 page)

It seemed nothing Hannah did satisfied Mrs. Walker. Her work was always viewed as insufficient. And the cook was even worse. She seemed a miserable person, forever complaining about something or other. She had no pity for others and in fact went out of her way to make others as miserable as she.

Just that afternoon, she’d made a point of addressing Hannah’s lowly position and what was out of reach for scullery maids. Hannah had been cleaning dishes when late in the afternoon the cook, Mrs. Keller, walked into the scullery. She sniffed. “Ye smell that? It’s fine veal. Whitest meat I’ve seen.” She grinned. “I can nearly taste it—the juiciness of it and oh such a delicate flavor.” Eyes alight with viciousness, she poured hot water into the washing tub.

It was too hot, but Hannah fought to keep her hands beneath the surface, refusing to give the woman satisfaction. “I’m sure it will be quite tasty,” she said agreeably, continuing to scrub a greasy pan.

“Course ye’ll never know how delicious it is. It’s not for ye and yer kind.” With a smirk, she continued, “I’ll let ye know how it turns out.” She chuckled and walked back into the kitchen.

Oh, she’s hateful,
Hannah thought.
Lord, why have you placed me here? What is it you’re doing?
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to staunch hot tears. She felt alone. Holding back a sob, she whispered, “Oh, Mum. I miss you so. I need you.”

Hannah forced herself to think about the present. At least she had work and wasn’t living on the street. It did no good to dwell on the ugliness of others. She sipped her tea and wished she could feel her mother’s presence. But the oppression and hopelessness pressed down, and she felt as if the weight and darkness of the house above rested upon her. Feeling faithless, she thought,
God most certainly is displeased with me
.
But, Lord, my circumstances seem too much to bear
.

“Father, may your presence overshadow the hatefulness I feel,” she prayed, knowing that Jesus had endured so much more than she and from people he’d loved.

With a small sense of tranquility, she set her cup on the table beside the bed and rolled onto her stomach. She hugged her pillow and burrowed beneath the blankets.

She thought back to the lovely days when she and her mother had worked together creating fashions for the best-dressed women in the city. If only she could have those days back. She would treasure every one.

When she’d come to work for the Walkers, she’d hoped to be able to use her skills as a seamstress to serve the family. Instead, she scrubbed dishes and woodwork and polished the silver.

The children were unbearable little monsters who seemed to delight in dirtying what she’d cleaned. Mrs. Walker was not a permissive mother, but she did have difficulty keeping track of the children.

Mr. Walker was rarely home, but Hannah was grateful for that. She didn’t like the man. He watched her and often sought her out for no good reason at all. He’d come upon her and ask an absurd question or inspect her work, and although it had been done respectably, he’d insist she do it again. And there were times when he’d touch her. The contact was always brief and seemed accidental, but Hannah knew it wasn’t. She’d seen lust in his eyes. The thought sent a shiver through her.

“Ah well,” she told the empty room. “Time for sleep. Tomorrow will be here much too soon.” She blew out the candle and pulled the covers up around her shoulders.
Lord, please deliver me from this place and from these people. Is it too selfish of me to ask that you restore my life to what it once was? And if that is not your will, I pray that you will create a new life for me.

She closed her eyes. As she sought sleep, she thought she heard something at the door. A light cast beneath it and then a shadow passed. She stopped breathing and listened. She heard a noise, as if something were being pressed against the door. Someone was there! Her heart battered wildly.

Who could it be? No one used this part of the house. Should she have need, no one would hear her scream.

5

Afraid to breathe, Hannah clenched her blanket tightly under her chin.

Her heart pounding so hard it felt as if it would beat out of her chest, she stared into the darkness. Again, she saw a glimmer of light along the bottom edge of the door.

She sat up, still clutching her covers.
Who would be down here at this hour?
Wetting dry lips, she asked, “Who is there?” Her voice wavered. “Pray, tell me.” There was no reply. “Is someone there?” she asked more forcefully.

She remembered the oldest Walker boy, Peter. He was always up to some sort of mischief. It must be him.

“Peter, that’s enough foolishness.” She tried to sound authoritative. “Go up to bed or I’ll be forced to speak to your mother.” She waited for the pounding of footsteps or a mumbled apology. There was neither. “Peter?”

Lying down, she huddled beneath the blanket. The house remained silent. Minutes passed, and Hannah listened, but heard nothing.
My mind must be playing tricks on me
. She closed her eyes and, taking a deep breath, she relaxed tight muscles, but her heart continued to thump.
I’m being childish. I’m sure it’s nothing,
she thought and drifted toward sleep.

Something startled Hannah awake. Then she heard it—a grating creak. It sounded as if the door was opening. She sat up. The door rasped.

“Who’s there?” No one answered. “Please, who is there?”

The sound of the door closing was the only answer. Then she heard the rustle of clothing. Someone was moving toward her bed.

“Please, who is it?”

There was no answer.

“Who is it?” she demanded.

She could just make out a shadow and rolled away from it. Someone grabbed the back of her nightdress and yanked her backward. A hand was clapped over her mouth, smothering a scream. The person breathed loudly and smelled of sweet lozenges.

Mr. Walker!

Hannah struggled and managed to break free. She scrambled to the side of the bed and leaped to the floor. Facing the bed, she challenged, “Mr. Walker! What are you doing here? Leave my room at once!”

He sounded as if he were panting. Then he stepped into the dim glow of a rising moon. His thinning hair stuck out wildly from his head, and in the moonlight he looked like an apparition.

“My dear, you knew I would come.” He half smiled, his teeth luminous. “You’ve been enticing me since your first day.”

He grabbed for her.

Hannah evaded his grasp. “Don’t touch me.” She clutched the neck of her nightdress closed. “I haven’t enticed anyone!”

“You tease me even now.”

Hannah edged toward the door. “Truly, I’m doing no such thing. I mean only to do my work and to bring harm to no one.”

Clouds must have parted, for the room suddenly brightened as moonlight streamed through the small window.

Mr. Walker wet his lips and lunged at her. With a smirk he ripped away the top of her nightdress.

Hannah snatched at the torn material and clutched it against her as she ran for the door. Before she could reach it, he seized her about the waist and pulled her to him.

“Let me go!” she yelled, fighting for freedom. “I’ve had no wicked thoughts toward you, sir. You have misunderstood.”

“It matters not.” He buried his face in her hair and pressed his lips to her neck.

“Sir! No!” Hannah screamed, shocked at the strength of the slightly built man.

“Be silent!” He shook her.

“I’ll not be quiet!”

“As you like, then. Your cries will do you no good. No one will hear you.” He held her tightly against his body, then lifted her and carried her to the bed.

Quaking, Hannah pleaded, “I entreat you, sir. You can’t mean this. I will be ruined.”

Ignoring her pleas he pushed her onto the bed and pressed himself upon her. He stared down at her. “Your beauty bewitches me.”

He kissed her greedily. Hannah managed to wrench her face away, but his lips only found another target. Pressing them against her neck, he whispered, “Do not fight me. You want this too.”

“No! I do not!” Hannah pushed against him.

He only shoved her down harder and trapped her arms beneath his hands. He gazed at her, his expression one of pure lust. “You’ll do as you’re told.”

“You can’t mean to defile me in this way.”

“Pretending innocence will do you no good. I’ve seen your glances, your provocative ways. You’ve beguiled me and done so deliberately.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort.” She fought to free her arms.
This can’t be happening.
Looking into his licentious eyes, she knew there would be no escaping his hunger.

He kissed her hard on the mouth, and then gripping her hair, he said, “I’ll have you whenever I want.” He smirked. “You’ll do as I say.”

God, tell me what to do
, Hannah prayed. “It is true, sir,” she said, forcing herself to look at him. “You are more powerful than me, in every way. But I always believed you to be an honorable man.” She choked back a sob. “To take a woman against her will is not honorable; it is beneath you.”

He tightened his hold and jerked her head back against the straw mattress. “If one of us is lacking honor, it is you. For this is not my doing, but yours. And because you have sought me, I shall have you.”

Hannah didn’t know how long the assault went on. It didn’t really matter. Her life was over.

When Charlton Walker finished with Hannah, he warned her not to speak of what had happened, saying he’d deny her accusations and stressing that no one would believe her word against his. Before leaving her, he’d also threatened to put her out if she said a word.

Hannah rolled onto her side, tucked her arms in close, and pulled her legs up to her abdomen. For a long while she lay like that, staring into the darkness and feeling dead inside. The attack played over and over in her mind. How could he have done it? How could a man be so vile?
Why? Why?

Hannah knew she ought to cry, but there were no tears. Closing her eyes, she sought the solace of sleep, but she could smell him. She stank of him. She needed to wash.

Climbing out of bed, she was unable to suppress a groan. She hurt all over. Stiffly, she moved to the wash basin on the bureau. Stripping off her tattered nightdress, she washed with a rough cloth and water. The cold water took her breath away, but its bite felt cleansing. She scrubbed her skin until it stung, but she could still smell him.

He’ll come back! It will happen again! And he’s right; no one will believe me.
The thought made her want to retch. “I can’t stay,” she said. “I can’t.”

Hearing a sound from somewhere in the house, she stopped washing and listened. What if he were to come back tonight? “I must leave. Now.”

She pulled on her undergarments as quickly as her shaking hands allowed. Moonlight illuminated bruises already staining her arms and legs. Nausea rose into her throat and she pressed her hand against her abdomen.

“Oh God, how could this happen?” The tears she’d expected earlier now stung. But there was no time for sorrowing. She wiped them away and prepared to leave. Shivering violently, she struggled into her day clothes.

After packing her few belongings in her satchel, she moved toward the door. She stopped. Where would she go? She had no place, but staying was incomprehensible.

Lifting the satchel to her shoulder, she reached for the doorknob. With her hand resting on it, she prayed, “Lord, I need your help. Cover me with a cloak of protection. And tell me where I’m to go.”

Again, she heard something from above. Was someone on the staircase? Hannah’s heart battered against her ribs. She opened the door and the hinge whined. She stopped, leaving it ajar, and listened. Hearing nothing, she stepped into the dark hallway. Keeping one hand on the wall to guide her, she moved silently toward the bottom of the stairs. She snuck a quick glance up the stairway. It was dark.

Shaking and sick, she pressed her back against the wall. She had little chance of survival without this post. “I have no choice,” she said, hoping the words would bolster her.

She peeked up the staircase again and then feeling her way in the darkness, Hannah slowly ascended the stairs. She was shaking so violently, her legs felt as if they might crumple beneath her.

At the top of the stairway, she stopped and listened. Had he gone to bed? Was he still up and working in his study or reading in the parlor? It had been at least an hour since he’d left her. No sound came from behind the door. Was he waiting for her? Waiting for her to make an escape? Slowly she opened the door, holding her breath. When no sound came, she opened it the rest of the way and quietly moved to the kitchen.

It still smelled of roasted veal and cabbage. Hannah’s stomach rolled and she thought she might be sick. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. Water dripped from the hand pump, making a dull plunking sound as it dropped into a basin in the sink, and wood popped in the hot stove. A loud crack of floor boards startled her and she whirled around. But there was nothing except shadows. The thought of the man filled Hannah with loathing.

She clutched her satchel against her as she moved to the back door. Glancing briefly about the room, she opened the door and stepped outside. In spite of the dangers that faced her, she was glad to be free of the house and its owners.

Frosty air hit her, but Hannah was thankful for the clear night. A nearly full moon lit the streets. She huddled inside her cloak and hurried down the lane. She’d go to Ruby’s.

Although the hour was late, the streets were not deserted. She passed several people bundled inside wraps huddling in doorways. Would she soon be like them—dispossessed and wandering? A candle lighter moved from lantern to lantern, illuminating the city one street at a time. She heard the echo of a night watchman, calling out the time—nine o’clock. It seemed much later.

Hannah longed for Ruby’s kindly hug, but couldn’t bear the thought of telling her what had happened. How could she ever tell anyone?

Feeling as if she were being pursued by some unseen specter, Hannah ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached. She slowed to a walk. Approaching Ruby’s house, she stopped and tried to create a reasonable explanation for her showing up at this time of night. Ruby would want to know.
I simply won’t tell her,
Hannah decided.
No matter how much she insists that I do.