Five

Torey awakened to the memory of Simon’s arms holding her the night before. She giggled beneath the covers as imaginary butterflies fluttered about in her stomach. The look in his eyes had definitely shown more than merely interest in a dalliance, she’d wager. She smiled, then frowned as doubt sprang to life within her mind, choking out her pleasure at the possibility of Simon requesting to court her.

Or maybe he wasn’t interested in anything more than a flirtation.

The smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen, directly below her room, beckoned to her stomach, inducing a growl. Mrs. Crawford insisted that Torey take Sunday breakfast in the kitchen with Simon, Mrs. Crawford, and Katherine. Torey would have enjoyed accompanying the three of them to church but thus far had stayed behind for fear one of Amos’s acquaintances would be at the service and recognize her. She had confided that fact to Mrs. Crawford, and the woman seemed to understand, but Katherine voiced her disapproval each week. Simon seemed indifferent to whether she accompanied them to church services or not.

Today, more than ever before, Torey wished she could join them. Her new commitment still burned in her heart, and she longed to become part of a fellowship. Pushing back the covers, she released a sigh. Would her life ever be normal again? Or would she be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her days?

She washed and dressed quickly. After tidying her room and making her bed, she took the back stairs down to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Crawford greeted her, a broad smile splitting her plump face.

“Good morning, Ma’am. Good morning, Katherine.” Torey scanned the room, then relaxed. Simon wasn’t there. She turned to Katherine, who lifted bacon from the iron skillet onto a platter. “May I help you?”

“Yes, thank you. Take this to the table.” The housekeeper motioned to the platter. Torey did as she was bidden.

“Did you sleep well?” Mrs. Crawford lifted her coffee cup to her lips and glanced over the rim, awaiting Torey’s response.

Torey felt the blush creeping to her cheeks. “Yes, Ma’am. I slept quite well. I’m sorry I fell asleep in the library.”

“It’s quite all right. I’ve been known to fall asleep during prayer myself from time to time.”

A smile touched Torey’s lips. “I didn’t actually fall asleep during my prayer. . .more like afterward. I felt such peace that I suppose I just drifted off. I’ve never slept so deeply in my life.”

“The peace of God passes all understanding.” Mrs. Crawford’s brow rose. “Do you mind telling me about it?”

Taking her seat, Torey smiled. “I found the Bible on the shelves when I was looking for a book to read. When I read about Jesus, it was like I’d never heard the story before, and I knew I had to pray and give myself to Him.”

“Praise the Lord.” Tears misted the woman’s eyes.

Katherine plopped down a pan of muffins on the table. “Perhaps now you’ll accompany us to services. After all, the Bible says we’re to go to church. You may as well get started on the right foot.”

“The Bible says that?” Taken aback, Torey looked to Mrs. Crawford to confirm or deny Katherine’s statement.

“The Bible does encourage us not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together. But it doesn’t necessarily say it’s a sin not to go.”

“I see. . .” The thought of wandering too far from the Crawfords’ home, especially to a public place where she might be recognized, didn’t appeal to Torey at all. As a matter of fact, it terrified her.

“You don’t have to go if you’d rather not. But we attend a small gathering not far from here. We’ll take the carriage.” She pressed Torey’s hand and gave her a look that clearly stated she didn’t believe anyone would recognize her.

“I’m not suitably outfitted for church services this week. But I will buy myself a proper dress from my wages and will attend with you next week, if that’s agreeable.”

“That’s fine. We’ll be pleased to have you accompany us.”

From the stove, Katherine gave a “harrumph”. “The Lord isn’t concerned with our appearance, only with our heart.”

“Which,” Mrs. Crawford said firmly, “no one but the Lord is qualified to judge.”

The housekeeper sniffed again but didn’t reply.

“Good morning, ladies.”

Torey’s heart sped up at the sound of Simon’s voice coming from the doorway behind her chair.

“Everything looks delicious, Katherine. I could smell your fine cooking all the way upstairs. I shaved so fast, I nearly slit my throat.”

Obviously pleased with the praise, Katherine stood a little straighter and smiled broadly. “Sit down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Thank you.” Simon sat opposite Torey, and for the first time since entering the kitchen, he caught her eye and winked as Katherine set a platter of scrambled eggs on the table in front of him. He focused his attention on the elderly housekeeper. “How are you feeling this morning? We missed you yesterday.”

Tenderness softened Katherine’s features. “I’m much better. Thank you for asking.”

Torey watched the exchange, still not sure what to make of the wink. Simon had good qualities; anyone could see his mother’s influence. He was thoughtful, a trait Torey had rarely witnessed in the men with whom she was acquainted. But just because a man was thoughtful to his mother and an aging housekeeper didn’t mean he wasn’t planning a flirtation with the maid. He caught her eye once more, and his smile sent waves of heat through her belly. “How are you this morning, Miss Mitchell?”

“Well, thank you.”

“Able to walk without assistance?”

“Simon!” his mother scolded.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Crawford,” Torey said, determined not to let him see how his teasing affected her. After all, if he had felt even a percentage of the emotions she’d felt being so near to him last night, then she could imagine he must be confused by it as well. On the other hand, if he was a cad who only meant to play with her heart and then discard her when he tired of the game, then he had no right to tease her in such a manner.

If only she could know which instance best described his intentions toward her. She squared her shoulders. She couldn’t very well come right out and ask about those intentions, but she could let him know that she would not be trifled with.

Katherine set a platter of fluffy biscuits on the table and took a seat. She folded her hands in front of her, elbows bent. She cleared her throat.

“Are we ready to say grace?” Mrs. Crawford asked, chuckling.

The aging housekeeper gave her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want breakfast to get cold.”

“It’s all right, Katherine. Of course we don’t want your delicious food getting cold.”

They bowed their heads, and Simon offered a prayer of thanks. Though the prayer was simple, Torey sensed Simon believed wholeheartedly in his words to God. Could a man with such faith trifle with a maid’s emotions the way Amos seemed to enjoy doing at Beatrice’s expense?

Simon said “amen” and raised his head. His brow rose in surprise as he caught her gaze across the table from him. He seemed to study her—a mix of bemused interest and possibly suspicion. Torey felt the heat in her cheeks as she realized she’d been caught watching him instead of properly bowing her head in prayer. Quickly she averted her gaze and studied the blue-flowered print on her plate.

Refusing to look at him, Torey remained silent during breakfast unless she was spoken to. Her relief knew no bounds when Mrs. Crawford pushed back her chair and stood. “I’d best go change for church.”

“And I should as well,” Katherine said, following her employer’s example. The two women left the kitchen together.

Torey nearly panicked as she glanced at Simon’s plate and noted much of his food still untouched. As though of their own volition, her eyes lifted, and she met his gaze. He smirked, and she rose quickly. Perhaps if she began cleaning up, he’d take the hint and get moving.

Unnerved, she reached for Mrs. Crawford’s empty plate, but as she did so, she bumped her own glass, half full of milk. Desperately she tried to keep it upright, but it was too late. Despite her valiant attempt, the glass turned over, spilling its contents onto Mrs. Crawford’s red-checked, Sunday morning tablecloth.

“Oh, no!” She grabbed a napkin and began to sop up the spill before it could spread to Simon’s place at the table.

A warm hand covered hers.

She looked into Simon’s gray eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His obvious compassion filled her with a longing to return her head to his chest where it had rested when she awoke last night.

“There’s no harm done,” he said. “The tablecloth soaked up the milk anyway.”

He stood and picked up his plate.

Torey gasped. “Put that down!”

Startled, he practically dropped the plate back to the table. It clattered on top of silverware. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s my job.”

His lips twitched beneath his handlebar moustache. “I assure you, I’m not trying to take it from you,” he drawled.

“Of course not. But you shouldn’t be doing housework. Besides, you haven’t finished eating.”

He lifted his plate again. “Katherine gives me twice what I can eat. I have to wait until she leaves the room to discard it so she isn’t offended.”

Torey smiled. She walked to his side of the table and held out her hand. “That explains the food still left on your plate, but the fact remains that I’ll not have you doing my job. Please hand over the plate and allow me to clean up the kitchen.”

Without waiting for him to comply, she grasped his plate, and he relinquished his hold.

“I, um, I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night, Mr. Crawford.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and Torey felt a strange bit of satisfaction that he seemed as disconcerted by the memory as she felt.

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you sleeping on the floor. You might have taken a cold.”

“It was very thoughtful. I–I hope I wasn’t too heavy.” She cringed inwardly. What an utterly ridiculous thing to say!

Her stupidity apparently lessened his embarrassment, because he chuckled. “Are you doubting my manly strength?”

Eyes growing wide, Torey shook her head vehemently. “No, Sir. Nothing was further from my mind. I just. . .well, I am so much taller than most girls, I thought maybe you had had a hard time carrying me.” Her mind begged her to hush,before she made a complete fool of herself. Quickly, she turned and walked to the counter. She scraped his plate into the refuse pile and returned to the table.

He stayed rooted to his place, standing beside his chair, and she had to maneuver around him to gather the rest of the dirty dishes. He touched her arm, and Torey nearly dropped the stack onto the floor. Luckily, she composed herself just in time. “About last night, Miss Mitchell. . .”

Torey braced herself. Was this where the Lord of the Manor suggested an inappropriate flirtation, demanded one at the risk of the poor maid’s position in the household? She squared her shoulders. “Actually, Mr. Crawford,” she broke in before he could make his intentions known, “I wanted to discuss last night with you as well.” She walked past him and set the stack of dishes in the sink. Then she turned and faced him once more.

“Yes?” His eyes narrowed, and he drew in a breath.

“Well, it’s just that. . .” Words eluded her, and she fought to find something, anything to say that sounded firm and yet remained properly respectful of their individual places in the household. “Actually, Mr. Crawford, I just want it understood that I’m not the sort of girl a man such as yourself can trifle with. To be sure, I was caught off guard when I woke up and you were—well, you know where I was when I woke up—but that doesn’t mean I am willing to compromise my morals.”

“I see. . .” His gaze darkened, and Torey’s heart raced as she envisioned an immediate dismissal. “So you thought I was so irresistibly drawn to you that I was going to insist upon an affair?”

“Well, I didn’t think of it exactly like that, but yes.”

He scowled. “I don’t know what sort of men you are accustomed to, Miss Mitchell, but I was taught to be honorable—a lesson I learned well. Not only are my own morals far above mere dalliances, my walk with Christ means more to me than anything. I wouldn’t compromise my relationship with Him for anyone—not even a pretty maid.”

Mortified, Torey could only stare. Words fled her mind, and she couldn’t utter a sound.

Obviously realizing he wasn’t going to get a response from her, Simon inclined his head in farewell and strode past toward the kitchen door.

All the strength left Torey’s legs, and she grabbed a chair, sitting before she fell in a heap to the ground.

She owed him an apology. But the thought of facing him again was nearly more than she could fathom. What if she just left? If she snuck out while they were at church, she’d never have to face him again. She thought of her meager savings: three weeks of wages she didn’t deserve and had tried not to take but that Mrs. Crawford insisted upon paying her. She had enough to pay for a cheap room for a few nights. And perhaps she could find a domestic position, such as this one, somewhere before her money ran out. She knew enough about caring for a home now, that if she worked extra hard, a new employer shouldn’t have any complaints.

She stood and walked back to the sink as unease crept through her. Leaving this home was a bad idea for more than one reason. Mrs. Crawford had insisted that she needed Torey because boarders would begin arriving anytime. Additionally, how could she even consider leaving after Mrs. Crawford had been so patient teaching her how to be a maid? And though she still wasn’t the best maid in the world, she was finally beginning to hold her own.

She plunged her hands into the warm, soapy water and began to scrub the dishes. But her mind continued its list. The last reason she couldn’t leave was because away from the security of this house, she would once again be all alone and vulnerable to Amos, should he be trying to find her.

At the thought of Amos, her pulse quickened and her stomach knotted in fear. The door opened, and she turned suddenly, flinging sudsy water droplets to the floor.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Simon said.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d gone.”

“Mother asked me to let you know we are headed to the church.”

Torey nodded, still smarting from their earlier exchange. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome.”

Torey swallowed hard. It was now or never. “Mr. Crawford. Please wait a moment.” She dried her hands on her apron and walked across the room to where he stood, a wary expression on his face.

Gathering a deep breath, she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I would like to apologize for thinking the worst of you. You’ve never shown me inappropriate attention, and as you implied, I have no right to judge your intentions based upon the scoundrels I’ve known in the past.”

His brow rose in interest, and Torey stepped back, an instinctive protective action. Why did she always have to say too much?

“Are you coming, Simon?” His mother’s voice carried into the kitchen.

“Good day, Miss Mitchell.” He smiled politely. “I accept your apology. Perhaps we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, nearly weak with relief at Mrs. Crawford’s timely interruption. She listened until the front door closed and she knew she was all alone in the house. In no time at all, she had the kitchen sparkling. With a satisfied smile, she decided to go upstairs and read her Bible. That was the least she could do, considering it was the Lord’s Day and she had been unable to attend services.

A knock at the front door halted her ascent just as she reached the steps. She opened the door. A broad-shouldered man stood on the front steps, his face split into a friendly smile. He removed his bowler and pressed it to his chest.

“May I help you?” Torey asked, wishing she weren’t alone in the house.

“Hello, Miss.” His eyes darted to somewhere behind her. “Anyone else home?”

Every impulse in her screamed for her to lie, to say anything but the truth of the situation. But her heart wouldn’t allow the sin—even in self-preservation. “I’m the maid,” she replied. “My employers have gone to church, but they should be home shortly.” There now, that much was true, depending on one’s concept of time. Torey expected them to arrive back home within two hours. That was short compared to a whole day.

“Forgive my presumption, but I understand the owner of the house might be interested in taking in boarders.”

“That’s right.” Torey started to relax. Mrs. Crawford hadn’t advertised for boarders, insisting that God would send those He intended to take up residence there. But she’d spread the word at church and among their close friends. If this man was acquainted with someone associated with the Crawfords’ circle of friends, then perhaps he was trustworthy.

“I wonder if I might take a look at a room? I am new to town, and I must admit my accommodations are less than acceptable. It would be a welcome relief if I were able to move in as soon as possible.”

“I’m afraid I am in no position to allow a stranger into the house when the owners are away.”

His cheery expression darkened but brightened again so quickly that Torey thought perhaps she had imagined the change in his demeanor. He gave her another attractive smile, showing beautifully attended, white teeth. “I am sorry to hear that. If I could only impose upon you to reconsider. You see, my time is up in my current room, and the landlord has already rented it to someone else. If I don’t find somewhere to sleep tonight, I’ll be on the street. I don’t know if you can imagine such a thing, Miss, but the thought is less than appealing to me.”

Torey’s memory took her back to the two weeks she’d spent trying to snatch a few moments of sleep at a time, wondering whether she’d wake up and if she did, what would be awaiting her when she opened her eyes. The thought of this man enduring a night of such circumstances sent a wave of pity through her. She was about to welcome him in when a sudden thought came to her mind. Where was his bag? She looked into his eyes.

“Where are your bags, Sir?”

He scowled. “In my room, of course.”

“But you just said your landlord has rented your room out. Surely he didn’t steal your clothing. Unless you owed him rent.”

The scowl deepened. “Are you suggesting I’m being dishonest?”

Torey’s knees began to tremble as he took a step closer. “I wouldn’t know, but I am afraid I must stand firm. You may not come in until my employers return from services. I am certain Mrs. Crawford would be happy to show you a room at that time.”

His hand shot out, and he snatched her arm, his long fingers biting painfully into her soft flesh. “Like I said, Miss Mitchell, I want to come inside.”

Torey gasped. Amos’s thugs had found her! Oh, dear Lord, help!

As if by design, a loud bark filled the air just before a flash of brown, black, and white breezed past the stranger and shot inside the house.

“Abe!” Frank, the Nelson’s gardener, followed him up to the house. “Beg your pardon, Miss,” he said to Torey. “Mind if I hurry on inside and snag Abe before he destroys everything?”

“Be my guest,” Torey said, standing aside.

The stranger’s black eyes flashed in anger at his thwarted plan. “I’ll be back,” he whispered. “There’s a certain man who wants you found.”

“T–tell Amos I’m not going to the police. H–he can just leave me alone, and I won’t tell a soul he killed that man at the theatre.”

His brow rose. “Is that so? You’re not going to tell anyone?”

Torey shook her head. “Amos has nothing to worry about. Tell him, and ask him to let me be.”

A sinister smile curled his lips, and he turned and strode down the steps.

“Will you tell him?” Torey called after him.

His laughter followed him down the walk. “You can count on it.”