The Sign of Fear (7 page)

P
anic surged through Christina. She managed to escape from her aunt, but it hadn't done any good. She had run straight into her enemy's arms.

She threw her leg over the side of the horse. I can still make a run for the forest, she thought.

But the young man's strong arms held her in place. She couldn't get away.

“What is it?” he said. “What's the matter?”

“Why, it's Christina Davis,” Mistress Peterson cried. Every time the woman spoke, chills ran through Christina.

She watched Mistress Peterson approach the horse. When she rested her hand upon its flank, the horse shied away.

“Whoa, Thunder. Steady there. Whoa,” Matthew said sharply.

Even the horse knows Mistress Peterson is evil, Christina thought. I must get away from here!

Mistress Peterson raised her lantern high. It shone on Christina's face. She lifted a hand to protect her eyes.

“So you know Christina, Matthew,” Mistress Peterson commented. “I didn't realize.” Her voice sounded sweet, too sweet, like sugar syrup. Christina felt her stomach roil.

“I don't really,” Matthew answered simply. “I came upon her in the road and rescued her from the storm.”

“A daring rescue,” Mistress Peterson purred. “How fortunate. And how fortunate that you brought her here. It will save me the trouble of fetching her later.”

“What do you want with me?” Christina demanded.

“You mean your aunt didn't tell you?” Mistress Peterson said, her voice growing even sweeter. “You are to work for me. This will be your home from now on.

No! Christina thought. It can't be true. That means I'll be her slave. Now I'm just like those other girls from the village. The ones who never returned.

Christina thought back to the conversation between Mistress Peterson and Aunt Jane. She remembered the soft clink of coins that meant money changing hands.

She thought Aunt Jane had paid Mistress Peterson to kill her. But Mistress Peterson had paid Aunt Jane! Her aunt had sold her as if she were a cow or a sheep.

How clever of Aunt Jane, Christina thought. She got rid of me—and earned some money at the same time.

“You come down from off that horse, now, Christina,” Mistress Peterson said. Her voice sounded warm and welcoming. “Your journey has been a tiring one.”

Christina wasn't fooled. She knew it was all an act for Matthew's benefit. It was exactly the way Aunt Jane talked to Christina in front of her father. She had to be on her guard.

“Come into the house,” Mistress Peterson went on. “I'll get my daughter, Emily.” She started toward the house, her lantern throwing wild shadows.

“You come in, also, Matthew,” Mrs. Peterson called. “I'm sure Emily would hate to miss you.” Then she vanished inside.

Dread filled Christina's body. I don't want to get down. I don't want to stay here, she thought. I don't want to be under Mistress Peterson's control.

But Christina knew she didn't have a choice. Her aunt sold her. She belonged to Mistress Peterson. And there wasn't a single thing that she could do about it. At least not now.

Matthew slid off the horse. He took Christina by the waist and swung her down. He didn't release her for a long moment.

“You mustn't worry,” he said. He brushed a damp curl off her cheek. “Mistress Peterson will treat you fairly. Everything will be all right.”

Nothing will be all right, Christina thought. How can it be?

But she didn't share her fears. She did the only thing she could. Her footsteps dragging, Christina followed Matthew into the house.

The place was dismal. A single lantern on a table near the front window gave the only light. The walls of the room were filthy. Blackened and stained with soot.

How can anyone stand it? Christina wondered. I'll die if I have to live here.

Die here. Die here.
I'm going to die here!

The words echoed inside Christina's head. She fought to hold her panic down.

Matthew took her arm and led her to a wooden chair. “You're tired,” he said. “You should sit down.”

Matthew settled himself in a chair next to her. “You needn't worry,” Matthew said again.

Christina stared down at her hands. He hopes if he repeats that often enough, I'll believe it, she thought. It's so sweet of him to try to reassure me.

“I know things look bad now,” Matthew continued. “But I'm sure the Petersons are good people. When I was in trouble, they aided me.”

Christina looked up at him. “They
bought
me,” she said bitterly.

“I know it is hard,” Matthew said. “But the practice is not unheard of. Many people get their start in the New World in this way. Besides, it won't last forever.”

“You don't know that,” Christina said.

Matthew got up and paced around the room. Christina watched him. Taking in everything about him.

He was tall, with handsome features. His clothes weren't fancy. But they were well made. And his eyes. Christina loved their rich brown shade.

“You mustn't give up,” Matthew said finally, his dark eyes filled with passion. “No matter what happens. No matter what comes.”

He stopped his pacing and knelt in front of her. He reached out and took her hands. “I know what it is to face impossible odds, Christina,” Matthew confided softly. “But I have not lost faith in my mission. I still carry on.”

“What mission do you have?” Christina asked, intrigued by his words. For a moment, she forget about her own troubles.

“I am one of two brothers,” Matthew replied. He rose and sat back down beside her. But he did not release her hands.

“We have recently arrived in the New World. But no sooner did we land, than someone stole a valuable family heirloom from us. Now my brother and I are searching for it. If it takes forever, we will get it back.”

“Where is your brother?” Christina asked.

Matthew sighed. “I don't really know,” he said. “After the heirloom was stolen, I stayed to search the coastal towns. Benjamin went farther inland. I have no idea where he is or when I will see him again.”

“How terrible for you!” Christina exclaimed. “I know what it is to be all alone in the world. I feel for you, Matthew.”

Christina didn't know what to say next. Suddenly she felt shy.

Neither spoke for a long moment. Then Christina heard the voices of Mistress Peterson and her daughter.

My time with Matthew is almost over. Mistress Peterson and her daughter will appear any second.

“I cannot halt my quest, Christina,” Matthew burst out, his words tumbling over one another. “I must recover my family's heirloom. I feel sure it is very near. But when I find it, I will return for you. I promise. That is, if you will wait for me.”

Christina's body began to tingle. She felt her heart turn over once again.

“I know we just met,” Matthew continued. “But I also know what I feel for you. It cannot be false. It is too strong. Too sudden.” Tenderly, he drew her into the circle of his arms.

Christina gave a shaky laugh against his chest. “I don't even know your full name.”

“My name is Matthew Fier.”

Matthew Fier,
Christina thought. The name of my rescuer. The name of my love.

“I cannot do anything until I find the heirloom, but then . . . ” He hesitated.

“I will wait for you, Matthew,” Christina said.

Matthew squeezed her tightly. Christina gazed up at him, her heart swelling.

He must be my soul mate, she thought. The one my mother used to speak of so long ago.

No matter what comes, I will love you, Matthew Fier, she thought.
I will love you until the day I die.

“W
hy, Matthew,” a bright voice called out from the doorway. “What brings you back here?”

Christina and Matthew jerked apart. A young woman about Christina's age came into the room. Her long, blond hair framed her face. Her bright blue eyes sparkled. She is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, Christina thought.

And all her attention is focused on Matthew Fier.

Matthew rose, as was proper when a woman entered a room. “Good evening to you, Miss Peterson,” he said.

Emily gave a trill of laughter. “How formal you are tonight, Matthew,” she said. She glided up to him, and laid a hand on his arm. “You weren't so standoffish the last time you visited us.”

Christina felt her heartbeat falter. Matthew's face turned a dull red.

“And you've brought our servant to us,” Emily went on, her blue eyes taking in and then dismissing Christina.

I can never compare with her. What must Matthew be thinking now that he sees us side by side? Christina wondered.

“My mother will be coming in a moment to give you some instructions,” Emily said to Christina. “You may wait here until then. But move over there, so you do not disturb us.”

Tears stinging the back of her eyelids, Christina rose and walked to the far side of the room. She has no right to treat me like this! she thought. But she knew she was wrong. Emily Peterson could treat her however she liked. Christina was nothing but a slave in the Peterson house.

“Now, Matthew,” Emily said, as she urged him back onto his chair. “You must tell me all about your travels. What have you been doing since you last left us?”

With a rustle of skirts, Emily sat down next to Matthew—leaning so close her body brushed against his arm.

Christina stared at the two of them, so close together. Get away from him, she thought. He wants me. He doesn't want you.

“Christina!” Mistress Peterson called loudly. “Come this way. I will show you to your room.”

Christina could feel Matthew's eyes upon her as she followed Mistress Peterson. But she didn't dare return his gaze. If she did, she feared she wouldn't be able to maintain her composure. And she didn't want to give Emily Peterson the satisfaction of seeing her break down.

Mrs. Peterson led Christina up a flight of stairs. The
second floor appeared even more dismal than the first. Christina had not thought it possible.

“This is my room,” Mistress Peterson said, as they passed the first door. “And this is Emily's room. You are not to go inside them unless we give you permission.”

At the far end of the hall Mistress Peterson threw open a door. “This will be your room.”

Reluctantly, Christina passed through the doorway. It was so low, she had to duck her head to step inside.

The room was small and narrow. It held little furniture. Only a narrow bed with a thin quilt and a basin and pitcher sat on the floor. A single candle gave the only light.

“Clean yourself,” Mistress Peterson said shortly. “It offends me to see you so untidy. When you are finished, come downstairs.”

She stepped back out into the passageway and slammed the door. Christina took another look around. It's not a room, Christina thought. It is a prison cell.

But this would be her only place of refuge. Until the day that Matthew Fier completed his mission. Until he came to rescue her.

A sob rose in Christina. She pressed her hands against her throat to hold it down. If I give way now, I will never recover. I'll do nothing but sit in this room and sob and sob.

I must learn to be strong. Matthew is strong—and I can be too.

Filled with new determination, Christina crossed to the basin and knelt beside it. She seized the pitcher and poured some water into the basin. Then she plunged her hands into it. The water felt icy cold.

Christina splashed the cold water on her face. Then
she dried herself with a rough towel. She unbound and then repinned her hair.

I feel better, she thought as she stood up. But I don't look fresh and beautiful. Not like Emily Peterson.

Emily Peterson laughed.

Christina spun around. She snatched up the pitcher and clutched it to her chest.