Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (5 page)

The lawyer had looked in on her a
little later and had explained that the lady at the wharf had already signed
the papers freeing her. A free woman, he had said. The words were difficult to
comprehend fully. A free woman.

But the lawyer had also said that
this same woman, Lady Wentworth, would be pleased if Ohenewaa would accompany
her to her country estate in Hertfordshire. The lawyer had explained that there
were many freed slaves who lived and worked at Melbury Hall, and Lady Wentworth
thought that Ohenewaa might know some of them from her years in Jamaica.

Ohenewaa remembered the name
Wentworth very well. She remembered clearly the people’s celebration when news
of Squire Wentworth’s death reached the sugar plantations in Jamaica. But that was before Jasper Hyde’s iron fist had closed around their throats.

At the sound of a knock on the
door, she ceased her chanting. The door slowly opened, and a young woman’s face
appeared, peering in with uncertainty. “May I come in?”

The blue eyes were large and
curious, taking in the articles on the hearth. They turned soft and the lips
thinned when she looked at the ragged shift and the blanket covering Ohenewaa.
Neither bit of cloth did much to hide the ugly bruises around her collar or her
wrists.

“I’m Violet,” the young woman said
softly, opening the door a little. Ohenewaa could see the woman was holding a
tray in her arms, but she did not enter immediately. “I’m Lady Wentworth’s
personal maid. She sent me here to see to your needs until we are ready to
leave for Melbury Hall tomorrow morning. May I come in?”

Ohenewaa studied the young woman’s
pretty dress, no doubt a hand-me-down from her lady’s wardrobe. The old woman
nodded slowly, but did not rise.

“They told me there was some water
and bread left here, but I brought you some hot food. My lady said that—good as
he is—we shouldn’t put too much faith in an old bachelor like Sir Oliver.
”
She
placed the tray she was carrying on the table beside the narrow bed and glanced
around. A pitcher of water and a washbasin were on a small chest by the foot of
the bed.

“I am sorry not to have thought of
bringing you a dress to change into. But I’ll leave you my cloak, and we’ll be
at Melbury Hall by tomorrow afternoon. Once we get there, Lady Wentworth—and
Mrs. Page and Amina, of course—will see to it that you have everything you
need.”

The girl rubbed her hands up and down
her arms. “Would you mind if I added some more wood to the fire? ’Tis really
quite cold in here.”

Ohenewaa was surprised that the
servant asked. The girl was waiting for permission from an old slave.

“Do as you please.”

Rubbing the chafed skin on her
wrists, Ohenewaa pushed herself to her feet and went to sit on the edge of the
bed. The young woman walked cautiously—perhaps even respectfully, she
thought—around the items on the hearth before kneeling down and stacking more
wood in the fireplace.

“You were praying,” Violet said.
Soft golden curls framed the woman’s pale face when she glanced over her
shoulder at Ohenewaa. “I admire that.”

“As a Christian, that does not
bother you?”

“No! I admire it. This is an altar,
is it not? I know you see the altar as the threshold of heaven, as the ‘face of
God’…more or less.”

“How is it that you know as much?”

“I have many African friends at
Melbury Hall, and I have the opportunity of spending many hours with them,
especially with the women. For some of them, their beliefs are much stronger
than mine, even if they aren’t…well, strictly Christian.”

“Is that so?”

“I realized, for one thing, that
they believe they are never alone, despite being taken away from their kin, as
they were. They believe the spirits of their ancestors are always with
them.”   

“You do not like to be alone.”

“No. To be honest, I do not.”
Violet shook her head and stood up. “And I’m glad you’re coming back with us.
I’ll be back in a moment. I need to find a tinderbox.”

Ohenewaa watched the servant leave
the room, and she stared at the open door. For the first time in her sixty
years of living, she was free.

That knowledge alone, though,
brought little joy. She knew how hard a place the world was. She knew what
misery it could inflict. She might be free, as the lawyer said, but she had no
place to go. No money to buy her bread. No job to earn money. She continued to
be a slave in their society.

The one thing they had not asked
her about was if she was willing to go with these people to the country. They
assumed she would be grateful for the chance. Perhaps she should be. Ohenewaa
went to the basin and washed her face and hands. She was finally a free woman,
but the world remained the same. 

As Violet came in again and bent to
the task of lighting the fire, Ohenewaa considered Lady Wentworth’s gesture.
The woman had sent her own servant to see to the needs of a slave.

Perhaps going to Melbury Hall would
be a new beginning. Or perhaps not. For a slave, nothing but death was a
certainty. 

“I know this news is quite sudden,
so please apologize to our people for the additional burden I am putting on
them with all that must be done. But Lord Aytoun could be arriving at any time,
and I truly need everyone’s assistance in readying ourselves.”

Millicent stood by the fire in the
library, warming herself as she addressed the steward and the housekeeper. The
journey up from London had been damp and cold. With her maidservant, Violet,
and the old black woman riding in the carriage, Millicent and a groom had
ridden behind, and a bitter winter wind had cut into her the entire way. But the physical discomfort of the trip had been nothing compared to the upheaval in her mind.
Making a simple country house like Melbury Hall presentable enough to receive
an earl was a challenge that Millicent had no confidence in facing. During her
brief time in the dowager’s company, she had heard a great deal about Baronsford, the Aytoun castle. She’d even seen a painting of it on one of the walls. And, having seen the magnificence of his town house in London, she could only imagine how grand
her new husband’s home was in the Borders of Scotland. Millicent’s mind now
reeled from her feelings of inadequacy. 

“But really, m’lady!” The
steward’s
protest cut through her thoughts. “Doing all of this today? What you ask is
absolutely impossible. ‘Tis already midafternoon. There is certainly not enough
time to—”

“Mr. Draper,” Millicent
interrupted, already well acquainted with the man’s querulous nature and
finding herself short of patience. “We shall certainly have
less
time if
we dally here and argue over what can or cannot be done. Now, kindly relay my
instructions to the grooms in the stables regarding the necessary space for his
lordship’s carriage--or carriages--and horses. Then, relay the news to Jonah
with my instructions for the rest of the servants regarding the urgency of the
situation. Mrs. Page and I need to see to the immediate need for living
accommodations.”

The tip of the steward’s thin nose
rose a few inches in the air before he turned toward the door. Millicent hoped
the man was smart enough to realize that there was also an immediate need for a
change in his attitude before he was introduced to Lord Aytoun. She saw
Draper
pause by the door.

“What about the African woman? She
refuses to
speak. Even her own people have not been able to convince her
to take more than a step into the kitchens. Why, the woman won’t let go of that
horrid rag she has wrapped about her, either. Do you wish to have her left
where she has situated herself, blocking one of the kitchen doors?”

Millicent silently reproached
herself for not seeing that the woman was immediately situated. Violet had
mentioned that she had refused the food last night and even declined the offer
of wearing a cloak over her rags. 

“She is to be treated as a guest in
this house, Mr. Draper, but I will go and see to her needs myself as soon as I
am finished here with Mrs. Page.”

“Before you uproot and offend
everyone in the household, m’lady,” the steward commented sharply, “you should
know that there is no space remaining whatsoever on the third floor. With so
many of the field hands who were formerly housed in the Grove now cluttering up
the household staff’s quarters, there isn’t a spare place for her. Therefore, I
recommend once again that you reconsider your decision not to use the Grove
shacks. Any of those places would be a castle compared to where she has
been.”   

Along a bend in the river just
beyond the glen lay the cluster of decrepit huts where Wentworth used to house
many of the Africans he’d held as slaves at Melbury Hall. It was called the
Grove. After his death, one of Millicent’s first projects had been to move the
people from that dark and dismal area of the manor land. 

“I told you I will look after her
myself, Mr. Draper. You may leave now.”

Neither woman spoke until the
steward had left the drawing room.

“You can always house her in one of
Mr. Draper’s rooms, m’lady. He is forever complaining that the two rooms he now
occupies are unsatisfactory compared with what he was accustomed to with his
previous employer.”

“Do you think he would willingly
surrender his sitting room to our new guest?”

There was mischief dancing in the
housekeeper’s eyes. “I think he’d quit at a mere suggestion of such a thing,
m’lady.”

Millicent shook her head. “I’m
afraid I cannot allow that to happen right now, Mrs. Page. Though Mr. Draper
maintains the record for anyone holding the steward’s position since my
husband’s…my previous husband’s death, this would not be a very good time to
lose him. Finding and keeping a steward who believes in what we are attempting
to do here is a daunting task, it seems.”

“The problem is not with you,
m’lady, but with these ignorant men who think that because you have no husband
ordering you about, they should be taking over the job.”

“Perhaps, Mary. But the real truth is that you are the one whom I really cannot do without.” She touched the
woman appreciatively on the arm. Millicent’s previous worries edged again into
her thoughts. “As to the rooms, how difficult would it be to prepare Squire
Wentworth’s old chambers for the earl?”

“The rooms have been kept clean. I
had the bedding aired while you were in London, and with some fresh sheets and
bedclothes, they’ll be ready. I can go up and start right now.”

“I should have arranged for some
new furnishings in there before now.”

“You haven’t been in there for some
time, m’lady. But they are just fine as they are.”

“You should have a fire prepared to
be lit if his lordship should arrive today,” she said resignedly. “We also need
to have the small guest room across the way ready for the earl’s doctor. I am
not really certain if he will be traveling with his lordship or how long he
will be staying, but I want to be ready. Also, the other room by the servants’
stairs. Hopefully, that would be suitable for the earl’s manservant.”

“It should, m’lady. He’ll be able
to hear his master call from there, I should think. As for the rest of them, I
know that some of the field hands have put the loft in the dairy to rights for
their own quarters. They could move out there anytime, now. Then, if need be, I
can move two of the girls in with Vi and that will make space for…”

The housekeeper continued her
planning, but Millicent’s mind was caught up with the problem she’d been facing
for some time now. After moving everyone out of the Grove, she had housed as
many as she could in the few empty cottages in the outlying farms, and the rest
in the servants’ quarters in the house. But all of that had been temporary and
very difficult during the hectic harvest days. With her limited funds, she had
not even been able to think about any new buildings or renovations. But now, with her marriage, so many exciting possibilities presented themselves. Perhaps
clearing more land along the river and building decent cottages for the field
workers. Perhaps draining the marshy lowland and erecting a stone wall to
contain the river during the spring. She paused, wondering if the Earl of
Aytoun would consider staying at this crowded country manor long enough for her
to start any of these projects.  

“How many servants will be
accompanying his lordship, m’lady?”

“Half a dozen, I should think.
Perhaps more.”

“And what should I instruct the
kitchen staff as far as the earl’s likes and dislikes?”

“I am not really certain. He is a
Scot. What do Scots eat?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, m’lady.
Where would you think he’ll be taking his meals?”

Millicent shook her head. “He is
confined to a chair or a bed. We shall simply have to wait until he is here
before we can make those decisions.”

“And what about the furnishings in
this room? Do you believe the earl will be spending his mornings here?”

Millicent
glanced
about at the old but comfortable
chairs of the library and realized she
wasn’t sure how her new husband would be spending his days. There was a great
deal she didn’t know about him. She had never really thought of Melbury Hall as
being small until now. Millicent’s own bedchamber would be on the same floor as
his. She would be within hearing if he should call, too. There would be no
ignoring his presence.

Doubts
about what she had done began to nag at her.
“I am afraid he might find
this place completely inadequate.” 

“You’re worrying about too much
right now, I think, m’lady. This is a fine home, and you’re a perfect hostess.
There is no use in upsetting yourself by guessing what he might think or do.
The good Lord is sure to get everything working properly.”