Merry breathed in through her nose. No. No. No. Her gaze met the tradesman’s. One side of his nose ticked up in a sneer.
“I have ten pounds from Mr. Cleaves.”
She hunched in on herself as if someone had punched her in the stomach. She was going to be hauled away by the vindictive little man and worked to death in tobacco fields.
Or worse.
A fly buzzed around her, and she focused on it. The tiny creature was incredibly ugly—no doubt he would be swatted by one of the men present, and still his future seemed brighter than her own.
“Eleven pounds.”
The cool, female voice slid over Merry, as refreshing as her first drink of water by the pump. She raised her head, eyes searching for the speaker. Against her will a flicker of hope ignited.
“Twelve.” A querulous note raised Cleaves’s voice.
“Thirteen.”
This time Merry found the speaker. A petite, elegantly clad woman near the rear of the crowd. A tall slave woman stood at the lady’s side holding a parasol over her perfectly coifed hair.
“Fifteen.” Blotches of red stained Cleaves’s cheekbones.
“Eighteen.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
The crowd murmured.
Cleaves’s nostrils flared. His lips twitched, but he said nothing.
“Twenty-five pounds, once … twice … to Mrs. Benning for twenty-five pounds.”
The auctioneer nudged Merry and jerked his thumb toward the left. Knees trembling so that she nearly toppled from the platform, she shuffled toward a clerk who sat behind a small table, filling out the legal documents of indenture and accepting payment. The swish of skirts made her turn.
Her new mistress approached, her gaze focused not on Merry but on the man at the table. Mrs. Benning discussed payment arrangements for a long moment before suddenly turning and prodding the manacles that bound Merry’s wrists. “I don’t think we will need these, do you, Merry?”
Merry licked her lips. “No madam.”
The shackles were removed and clunked down among the documents, nearly upsetting the clerk’s inkpot.
Merry chaffed her wrists. She kept her eyes downcast, unsure of the etiquette of such a situation. “I am grateful for your kindness.”
Mrs. Benning made no sign she had heard. Half-bent over the table, she wielded the quill with a flourish, signing the document presented to her. With a curt nod toward Merry and her slave woman she marched away from the market green, leaving them to scurry after her.
A landau awaited Mrs. Benning just outside a tidy brick church. A young black man in handsome livery perched in the coachman’s seat. He scrambled down at their approach and swung the door open for Mrs. Benning. She climbed in without a word, and the lad closed the door behind her.
Uncertain what to do, Merry halted in midstep. Was she expected to walk? The Negress met her gaze for the first time and indicated with a jerk of her chin that they were to sit on the board at the back, where in London a footman might have stood.
“Home, Crawford.”
“Yes’m.” The coachman hopped back up to his place and whipped the horses into a canter.
The carriage lurched forward, and Merry snatched at the side before she slid right off her precarious seat. Her paltry bundle of belongings skidded toward the edge, and the Negress snatched it back. She seemed unaffected by the movement.
The meager contents of Merry’s stomach sloshed about, making her regret the water she had drunk. She swallowed, and swallowed again. She could not disgrace herself. Her knuckle showed bone white as her hands gripped the seat.
In truth, she couldn’t say if it was the motion of the cart or apprehension that unsettled her. What lay in store for her next? Was the ordeal drawing to a close or merely beginning?
Swaying slightly, Merry clambered from her seat to face an enormous white house on a broad, well-kempt street. No neighbors squashed up next to it as they were prone to do in London. Instead, she could see the edge of a garden and several outbuildings behind the main structure. Black shutters framed wide, arched windows. Gray shingles ran up the mansard roof, parting to allow four dormer windows to peek out over the street.
Merry stared at the imposing facade. She felt as if all her emotions had been forced through a strainer, leaving only a leaden, remote sort of apathy.
Mrs. Benning turned at the top step and glanced around. She caught Merry’s gaze and made an impatient come-here motion with two fingers. As if the imperious gesture had broken some sort of spell, Merry found her legs capable of movement and followed her new mistress inside.
Mrs. Benning led the way into an elegant room painted a cheerful green. She settled onto a divan. “I imagine you would like to know a bit about your new situation.”
“Yes madam. If you please.” Merry stood in the center of the room, hands knit loosely in front of her.
“I believe you would do well as a nanny. My Emma is five and John, three. They are bright, precocious children, but they require firm guidance.”
“Yes madam.”
“You will teach them to read and write and some basic arithmetic. I will expect them to be clean and well-fed, their days to be regulated. But don’t forget that they are children.”
Merry nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth. So many questions were piled in her head that if she spoke one would surely tumble out.
“The Benning name is respected throughout the colonies. We have high standards. I had not intended to indenture a convict when I went to market today.”
“Why did you?” The words were out before Merry could blink. She would have given her last shilling to recall them.
Mrs. Benning’s cool blue eyes surveyed Merry, and the slightest smile quirked one corner of her mouth before disappearing. “I saw you.”
Merry frowned. What was she to make of that?
“I saw you tending the other convicts.”
A blush heated Merry’s face. “I … the heat.” She failed to keep the defensiveness from her tone. “They needed water or—”
“I am not critical. Your kindness recalled to mind the story of Rebekah watering all those camels. I felt all at once as if I must purchase your indenture. That, and I detest Thomas Cleaves—dreadful man.”
A jumble of new questions rendered Merry speechless.
“That being said, I must make some inquiries. The charge of which you were convicted was larceny?”
“Yes.” Merry looked away. She would ever be bound by the accusation, whether physical chains chaffed her wrists or not.
“Please tell me about it.”
Merry did, as concisely as possible. Mrs. Benning’s mouth quirked again, but not with a smile, when she heard Merry’s protests of innocence. No doubt every convict in Virginia heralded their innocence. At least her new mistress had the consideration not to laugh.
When Merry came to the end of her recital, Mrs. Benning regarded her for a long moment. Could she see anything beyond the filth of the convict hulk?
Was there anything else anymore?
“My woman, Jerusha, will show you what is expected.”
The slave woman led the way from the sitting room. Acutely aware of her grubbiness, Merry licked her lips and smoothed her skirts. Nervous fingers tried to push the stray locks of hair back from her face, but without a glass it was difficult to say whether she was making matters better or worse.
On the third floor the slave woman swung open a door. “Here’s the nursery. You’ll sleep in here with the children.” She indicated a thin pallet in the corner.
Jaunty yellow walls were broken by a series of tall windows that allowed light to stream in. Two narrow beds were covered with white coverlets and fluffy bolsters. A spindly chair sat between the beds. In the middle of the room a tiny table complete with miniature tea service sat atop a pretty floral carpet. A dollhouse sat in one corner near a rocking horse. Toy soldiers were scattered about, apparently where they had fallen in battle.
“This is very nice,” Merry said.
“I’ll see about finding you something to wear.” Jerusha patted Merry’s arm.
The human contact was almost more than Merry could bear. Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you.”
She took a seat in the rickety chair, which held up better than she had feared. Absently she stroked the soft coverlet. Mayhap the staff would disapprove of the notion of placing impressionable children in the charge of a convicted felon.
In her heart, she scarcely blamed them. Who could be expected to embrace a thief?
With Jerusha’s help, Merry found new clothing and water for a bath.
Delight of delights.
Merry scrubbed with lye soap until her skin was raw and her fingers shriveled. It took an age, but at last she felt as if she had rid herself of the gaol’s stink. Between the bath and Jerusha’s kindness she felt nearly human again.
She turned as a slight slave girl shepherded the Benning children into the nursery, though she was little older than they.
The children had the same brown hair and gray eyes as their mother, but vivacity gave them a unique comeliness.
Gentle hands turned the children to face Merry. “Emma, John, this is Merry. She’s gonna take care of you.”
“I don’t want her, Hattie. I want you.” Little John whirled back to the girl with outstretched hands.
Graham stood on the deck of the King’s Favor, staring back at Portsmouth’s harbor. His fingers clutched the ship’s rail as Merry’s had clutched the railing of the dock.
Was he utterly daft? He had asked the question of himself at least twice a day since deciding on this rash course of action. Even as he had made the many preparations required before abandoning his magistracy to a temporary replacement.
Despite the most diligent search, he had been unable to determine much of Merry’s fate. The intelligence had left him little choice; the hunt could not be picked up on this side of the Atlantic. But rather than search for a reliable agent to continue the quest in Virginia, Graham had known with a certainty that defied explanation that he must finalize the matter. He would never rest until his error had been made right.
His mind drifted to the last time he had planned a meeting with Merry. Yes, that last visit to the Lattimore house still rankled. Mrs. Lattimore had skewered him with a glare as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel even as her lips bent in an unwilling smile.
“I’m sure you understand, Mr. Sinclair. I have my heart set on this match. As a true friend of this family I know you will also want the best for Merry.”
In the pocket of his waistcoat the ring he had purchased so hopefully seemed to singe his flesh right through the cloth. It gave rise to a painful flush that scalded his cheeks as if he were a schoolboy guilty of some monstrous prank.
She continued. “Lord Carroll and his father, the earl, have been more than willing to talk terms. Merry and Dr. Lattimore are down at the Dabney estate in Kent even now, and as you know, her father has determined to settle a very handsome dowry on her when she marries.”
Her fan stirred the air, and dust motes scattered to escape the vortex she created. Graham focused on those tiny points of light, trying to maintain his sanity as she prattled.
“I thought you ought to know what was happening. I’ve noticed how she has led you on. But really the two of you would never have made much of a match. You can see that, I’m sure. She’s set her cap for Lord Carroll, and in time you’ll be as happy for her as I am.” Her voice had turned as pointed as her gaze. “I’m sure you will do nothing to mar her chances. This will mean everything for her.” She broadened her smile. “Won’t you stay for tea?”
He croaked some reply and all but stumbled from the house in his haste to be away.
He blinked. Even now it pained him that Merry’s mother had fended off his advances, as if he weren’t a friend but some overeager fellow who needed to be beaten off with a stick.
“You’re not brooding again.”
“Not at all.” Graham rounded on his companion. Trust Connor to hit the nail on the head. Particularly if it was aimed at something sensitive.
Connor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Graham breathed deep, sucking in the freshening breeze. “My thanks, friend.” He smiled. “There is still opportunity for you to turn back if you wish.”
“Not I. Who would keep you on the straight and narrow if I’m not there?”
“You make an excellent point.” Graham slapped him on the back.
As the last bit of land disappeared from the horizon, Graham led the way belowdecks. What would Merry say when she saw him again?