Teach
Teach was asleep in his bed the next afternoon when he heard a commotion outside his room. He awoke, confused from a strange dream. In his dream he was the captain of a great ship and a large crew, but a sharp-tongued maid with copper-colored skin and thick black hair questioned his every command.
It was a surprise to wake to the sound of her voice. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming, until he recognized the sound of the other voice. It was Mary’s, the blond maid in the house.
He waited, hoping their discussion would find an end, but it seemed to go on forever.
Too weak to move, he called out, “Anne? Anne!” It was no use. Groaning, he pulled the blankets up to his chin, willing the two girls to go away. Well, he hoped one of the girls would go away.
He wouldn’t mind if Anne came to read to him again.
When she’d helped him out in the garden, he’d been rather surprised. Up until then their interactions had been anything but civil, yet she’d assisted him when he’d needed it most.
Even if he hadn’t vomited on Patience, he wasn’t convinced she would have come to his aid.
It was not the first time he’d been sick like this. The fever had a nasty habit of striking whenever Teach switched climates. Although it wouldn’t last long, fever and chills would rack his body.
Rest was the only cure.
Outside his room the voices stopped. He heard footsteps marching down the hall.
Silence.
Teach tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment he felt. Anne should be coming within the hour with his food. He was looking forward to seeing her more than he cared to admit.
He was engaged, he reminded himself.
To Patience.
He had known Patience for several years now, and he was quite comfortable with her. She was like a well-worn shoe.
Teach cringed, imagining Patience’s reaction to that description.
Anne was different. She intrigued him, for not only was she familiar with John Milton, but she claimed to know how to ride a horse. Patience had already proven she’d never heard of the poet, and the closest she ever got to a horse was when she stepped in and out of a carriage.
What could be the harm in getting to know Anne a little better? An acquaintance with her could prove useful if he hoped to help his father catch the thief in the house.
Closing his eyes, he began to doze off again, his thoughts turning once more to the sea and the mysterious maid under his father’s roof.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he said, his heartbeat accelerating.
The door opened a moment later. Rolling over, Teach saw Mary coming toward him, a bowl of steaming broth on a tray. He frowned. “Where’s Anne?”
Mary gave him a strained smile. “She’s cleaning out the fireplaces in the guest rooms, sir,” she said. “I brought you a little something for your sickness.”
“Why can’t you clean out the fireplaces?”
Mary’s smile faltered. “I just thought that since Anne brought you breakfast, I’d give her a hand and bring you your dinner.”
“You thought wrong. I made my instructions clear. Anne is the only one to bring me my food,” Teach continued. His justification for the demand was that she had already been exposed to him. He didn’t want to risk anyone else getting sick.
“But don’t you want—”
“I want you to leave. From now on Anne is the only one to wait on me. You may go.”
Mary still hesitated, clearly unwilling to give up so easily. She moistened her lips and glanced back at the door. He watched her through narrowed eyes.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?” she asked, her voice full of innuendo, as she placed the tray on his bedside table.
Teach’s head pounded. “Absolutely sure. Now I suggest you leave. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to tell your beau, John, about your cheating ways.”
Mary blinked in surprise at the rebuff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, holding her hand up to her generous bosom.
Teach took a deep breath, wishing, not for the first time, that he were still at sea. “Yes, you do. When William and I came back the day before yesterday from our morning ride, you and the groom were . . . how shall I say it? Otherwise engaged. If I catch you doing that again, I will have no choice but to let my friend John know exactly what kind of girl he plans to marry.”
“I . . . Tom, he . . . he helped me . . . because I fell . . .”
Teach watched, unimpressed, as Mary tried to defend herself. She was clearly not quick-witted. “It appears you both fell,” he said.
Scowling, Mary stomped toward the door, muttering something beneath her breath about seeking a different position elsewhere.
“Tell Anne to come here,” he commanded before she closed the door with a loud bang.
Teach sighed, hoping Mary would make good on her threat and leave. He wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be the crook. The less he knew about her exploits, the better. When he’d met John last year on the merchant ship, they had become close friends. John had mentioned that his girl was seeking a situation within a respectable household.
Unfortunately, there was nothing respectable about Mary, and Teach now regretted having asked his father to give her a job. Even if he hadn’t been engaged to Patience, Teach would never have considered Mary as a prospect. She was too eager.
Teach liked a challenge.
He remembered fondly his first few attempts at wooing Patience. She’d played hard to get in the beginning, but he knew she’d enjoyed the attention. If there was one thing Patience loved, it was being the center of attention.
A knock at the door brought him back to the present. “Come in,” he said.
Anne poked her head in, a wary look on her face. The girl was constantly on edge. He had the distinct impression that it took her a while to trust someone.
She stepped inside, rubbing her hands down her apron. It was covered with gray ash, and several strands of hair had crept out of her cap.
Teach’s hand itched to touch them. She reminded him of an exotic flower growing on the islands of the West Indies and seemed out of place in this cold, sterile environment.
“Sir?” she said.
His eyes met hers. Teach was aware how he must look, with his jaw covered with stubble, his face flushed. Everything was as she’d left it a few hours earlier, with the exception of one window being open, allowing a cool breeze to drift through the room. The chicken broth steamed in the bowl, filling the air with its scent. “You’re late,” he said, his voice rough.
She pointed to the tray at his side. “You have your soup,” she said.
“Yes, but you are the only one I wish to bring me my meals. That includes breakfast, dinner, and supper.”
“But surely the others are capable of bringing you your meals?” she asked incredulously.
“No doubt.”
“If you’d like me to read to you, I can come later—”
“I do want you to read to me, and that is precisely why I wish for you to bring me my food, no one else,” he said, pulling at the collar of his nightshirt. “Especially not that fool Mary,” he muttered beneath his breath. “You’re to let me know at once if you catch her anywhere near Tom, the groom. Is that understood?”
Anne bristled at his words. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly shut it again.
“What?” Teach asked.
“That’s not true. You were about to say something. Does it have anything to do with Mary?”
“It’s not my place to say.”
“It is if I’m asking. What do you know about Mary?”
There was a long pause before Anne spoke. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Out with it,” he said.
“I have reason to believe that she engaged in an inappropriate relationship with one of your guests.”
Teach’s eyes widened in surprise. A guest? “You do? Why?”
Once more she hesitated.
“Come closer. Now tell me why you suspect that.”
Anne took a few steps forward until she came to stand at the foot of his bed. Teach was keenly aware that he did not look his best. Sweat glistened on his brow, and he could feel the heat in his cheeks.
“Your father has made it very clear that he doesn’t want any sort of involvement among the household staff. I’m sure that extends to your guests as well.”
Teach squirmed beneath her steady gaze, remembering his earlier conduct. “I’m well aware of my father’s rules. You don’t need to remind me,” he said.
Anne reached into her pocket, pulled out a small note, and handed it to him. “Your friend, the Earl of Lorimar, is not without fault in the matter, sir. See for yourself.”
“William? You must be mistaken.”
Anne scoffed, obviously not surprised Teach would come to his friend’s defense. “Yes, William. He has clearly taken advantage of the fact that Mary, as a dependent in your household, has nowhere else to turn. He would compromise her position for his own enjoyment,” she said.
Teach’s eyebrows drew together as he read the note.
My darling,
I can scarce tell you how I felt when I first saw you in this house. I could almost not eat, for my stomach was truly in knots. You cannot imagine the depth of my emotions, and I myself am unable to fully convey to you how strongly I have come to feel for you.
Please tell me you feel the same.
Forever your loving,
William
Teach’s own stomach was in knots, but for entirely different reasons. What a pile of rubbish. How many times had he told William to stop with this nonsense?
“Where did you find this?” he asked Anne.
“I found it while I was cleaning out the fireplace in the earl’s room.”
“And have you asked Mary about this?”
Anne nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “Yes, sir. Just before you called me in, sir.”
So that was what the two of them had been bickering about. “And what did she have to say?”
“She insisted the note wasn’t meant for her, claiming she cannot read.”
Not many maids could read, but there were ways around it, especially if she was trying to impress an interested lover. “But you mean to tell me this note was intended for Mary?” Teach said at length. Teach had noticed Mary making eyes at William during the meal.
Anne nodded.
“Then she’s even worse than I thought.”
Anne blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Teach closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I caught Mary kissing Tom when I returned from my early morning ride the other day.”
“Again?” Anne asked, before clamping her hands over her mouth.
Teach snorted. “So this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Well, William hardly acted the jealous lover, even if the note was meant for her.” In fact, William had appeared quite amused, and Teach had been forced to drag him away.
Anne’s face burned with her embarrassment.
Teach did not bother to mask his impatience. “If it wasn’t Mary, then I have no idea who the intended recipient was. Perhaps he meant for you to find it.”
Anne grimaced.
Ever observant, Teach frowned. “You do not like William?”
Anne shot him a look, as if cursing his watchful eyes. “It’s not my place to either like or dislike your frie—”
“Oh, stop this nonsense,” he said. “If I ask you a simple question, I expect an honest answer. Do you or do you not like the Earl of Lorimar?” he asked. He wasn’t always this ill-tempered. There was something about this girl that touched on his nerves. She was unlike anyone else he’d ever met.
“I fail to understand how my opinion matters, sir.”
“Well, for some reason it matters to me. Answer the question. Please.”
She studied the floor, as if she wished for the flowers in the carpet to swallow her whole. “My father always told me, the enemy is dangerous who wears the mask of a friend.”
“Are you saying William wears a mask? That he is not my true friend?”
“I would not seek out his companionship, sir,” she said at length.
Teach was quiet. He was pleased by her confession, although he did not know why. William was one of his closest friends, was he not? As far as he knew, there’d never been any competition between the two of them. At school Teach had often laughed at William’s antics, for William provided a nice foil for Teach’s more serious nature.
William always joked and said Teach had what William wanted most: good looks, a sharp intellect, and the ability to command respect.
Teach argued back and said that William had what Drummond wanted most: a lofty title, a larger estate, and a life without labor.
Anne broke the silence. “You do not look well, sir.”
His lips twitched. “I did not ask how I looked.”
“I meant no offense, sir. I simply said it out of concern for your health.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re concerned about me, are you?”
“Naturally. As the master of the house—”
“Ah, but you said yourself I’m not the master.”
Anne made a small movement. Teach could imagine her stomping her small foot in frustration.
“Now you’re twisting my words,” she muttered.
He relaxed against the pillows, a chuckle escaping him. He was actually enjoying himself. “What else would you tell me, Anne? What else about my appearance bothers you? Are my eyes too close? Is my mouth too large?”
“At the moment, yes,” she said.
His laughter dissolved into a coughing fit, and his face flamed.
Anne stepped around the foot of the bed, to be of some assistance, but he waved her away. When he stopped, he leaned back, wheezing. Anne remained resolutely near his side. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no. You were quite right. I said I wished you to be honest. I should never demand honesty if I’m not prepared to hear it.”
The fact that he had admitted defeat was telling. If he hadn’t been so sick, Teach would not have given in so quickly.
Picking up the book from the table, Anne motioned to his soup. “If you like, I will continue to read for you. But only if you promise to eat,” she said.
Teach bowed his head, much like he had when he’d been little and his mother had told him to finish his meal. “Very well. I will eat my soup. But only if you promise to always tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Agreed,” Anne said.
Teach smiled, pleased with himself.
Anne sat down in the armchair beside his bed and opened the book once more.