Before the Fire Page 22

  Chapter 31

  “I’m happy to finally be of service to ye after all these long months, m’um.” Bessy unbuttoned the back of Kane’s travelling gown with growing agitation. “Indeed,” she harped, “I never had a job so easy as being lady’s maid to a lady that doesn’t see fit to take her maid about town with her.” Bessy shook her head in vexation. “I see the way of it now, m’um. Never fear,” she sniffed, “ye must have got yerself a fancy lady’s maid whilst in London.”

  She released Kane’s dress and placed her hands into balled fists at her sides. Kane whipped around to confront her. “Huh?”

  Bessy straightened up, thrusting her chin indignantly upwards. “Ye tol’ me I was to be yer lady’s maid, m’um, yet a lady’s maid travels with her mistress at all times.” She perched her thin bottom lip slightly outward. “I know I don’t be havin’ all the sophistication of them London maids, m’um.” Her gaze wavered. “But I thought ye liked me,” she whispered softly.

  Though she still sometimes had trouble making out the English of people raised in the underprivileged classes of 1776, understanding soon dawned. Kane had hurt the girl’s feelings without realizing it. She felt immediately contrite. “Oh Bessy.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “You have to forgive me. You know I am not from England, so I don’t always understand the way of things.” She took the girl’s hand and squeezed it gently. “From now on you will travel with me always. I swear it by Jupiter’s moons.”

  Bessy scrunched her eyes up, not having the least idea what this Jupiter business was. One thing was vividly clear, however: she really was lady’s maid to a full-fledged, honest-to-goodness countess. She smiled brilliantly, wishing she could run into the village to tell her papa this very minute. “Thank ye, m’um. Thank ye ever so much!”

  Kane patted her hand. “It’s I who should thank you.” She tried to think of a way to make up for the slight she’d inadvertently handed the girl, then smiled at her own brilliance when a thunderbolt of an idea struck. “As a matter-of-fact, you are the best lady’s maid I’ve ever encountered. So good,” she went on, “that I’m giving you a raise in your wages.”

  Bessy’s eyes widened. She gasped. “A raise?”

  Kane thought of her replicator built into her laser-c. Even if George couldn’t foot the bill, which she knew he easily could, she had the necessary means to reproduce all the money she wanted to. “Yes,” she insisted. “Starting today, your salary has just been doubled.” She nodded firmly, underlining the conviction of her words.

  Bessy paled. “D-Double, m’um?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ye don’t say,” she mumbled. She looked up at Kane, smiled faintly, clutched her chest, and passed out cold.

  * * * * *

  Aron MacAllister had come to England in search of steady work. Life in the Highlands was rugged at best these days and downright poverty-stricken at worst. He’d watched in growing desolation as the clansmen he’d grown up with all of his life turned on each other—even on their own families—trying to simply keep food in their mouths. ‘Twas like watching ravenous animals fight over bones.

  Aron could stand to see no more. So he did what any sensible man with a family to feed would do. He took his new bride and he left Scotland.

  In Blackmore, Aron had found what he’d sought. The work was ever needed, the income was fair—and definitely more than the pittance most English paid—and the way of life was good. All said, he should be thriving. Yet he wasn’t.

  Of course, Aron hadn’t expected the woman he’d loved with all his heart to up and abandon him and the five children she’d birthed him to run off with an actor. He especially hadn’t anticipated Mary cleaning out the family coffers before she hightailed it for only god knows where, leaving her shattered family behind to pick up the pieces.

  His two eldest sons, William and Hamish, were farmers now with families of their own to see to. His oldest girl Bessy still lived in their cottage, but she had taken a job cleaning up at the big house on her twelfth birthday, so wasn’t a burden. His two youngest, Megan and Francy, were a different story altogether.

  At sixteen years, Megan was old enough to find work, but hadn’t been able to secure any. The big house had all the servants it needed and she was too young to head to the cities to look for work on her own. At seven, Francy was too young to work at all except at home.

  And now, after being sent notification that the wife who had abandoned him and his children so many years ago had died, Aron had wed with the good widow Alice. Alice birthed him his infant twin sons, Michael and Dugald, a fortnight past.

  He didn’t know what he was going to do.

  Aron listened with half an ear to the conversations taking place around him. He shared common soil with a few other families, so the men worked the fields together daily. Jack Turgot, who was even now tilling the ground next to him, fancied himself in love with his Bessy girl.

  Knowing the precarious financial straights the MacAllister family was in, Jack’s overbearing, pompous mother refused to let her son make an offer for his girl’s hand. Aron’s inability to provide anything at all in the way of a dowry for his daughter struck him mightily. Not that he’d ever let on as much to the old Turgot witch who thought herself to be of so much better blood than the Scots family.

  “Papa!”

  Aron looked up from his work at the sound of the sweet, familiar voice. Using his hoe to support his weight, he smiled warmly at his daughter as he watched his Bessy run excitedly through the fields toward him. It didn’t escape his attention that Jack Turgot was watching her just as intently. “Guid day me Bessy girl. Why are ye no’ workin’?”

  Bessy ran up to his side, all smiles, stopping directly in front of him. She glanced quickly to Jack, blushed at his lack of shirt, then turned back to her father. She had noticed that the other four farmers working with her papa and Jack were waiting to hear what she had to say. Well, she for one couldn’t wait to tell the lot of them. “The countess gave me the rest o’ the day off fer all me hard work,” she said, pride making her back go ramrod straight.

  Aron winked at his daughter. “That was guid a her tae do. And ye deserve it, tae, Bessy girl.”

  Bessy grinned from ear to ear. She basked in her father’s praise, just as she always had. “Papa, I have much more fer ye to know.”

  Aron arched a brow. Bessy beamed. “Milady tol’ me this very day that I’m to be her very own lady’s maid.” She lifted her chin an arrogant notch.

  James Barrett whisteled through his teeth. “Yer lady’s maid to the countess herself, Bessy girl?”

  Aron smiled proudly. He ruffled the hair on his daughter’s head with loving affection. “Ye dinna say.”

  Bessy nodded up and down emphatically. “And that’s not the whole of it, papa.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye.” She grinned. “The countess doubled me wages!”

  Jack and the other farmers sucked in their breath. Aron felt dizzy. It was too much good fortune to hope for. “D-doubled them?”

  Bessy threw her head back and laughed. She bounded into her father’s arms and hugged him soundly. After she drew back, she told him the rest. “And what’s more, she gave me a chamber in the big house me very own.” She waved her arms about dramatically. “Bigger even than the cottage, papa.”

  Aron’s face split into an ear-to-ear grin. “Bigger than the cottage?”

  “Aye.” Her chin raised another notch. “And what’s more, she tol’ me I was to come to the village and collect me sister Megan. Megan’s to be lady’s maid to the countess’s best friend at almost the same wage as me own.”

  Aron shook his head in disbelief of his family’s good fortune. “How did ye ever manage this, Bessy girl?”

  Bessy straightened up so regally Aron feared her backbone would break from the strain of it. “She said I am the best lady’s maid she ever did meet.”

  Aron nodded. A father couldn’t be prouder. He cast a meaningful glance toward Jack Turgot’s
father, Marshall. “Ye dinna say,” he said ever so quietly.

  Chapter 32

  By summer’s end, George was mightily sick of the dandelion. Dandelions were packed up in bags, sealed off, and stored in ten different chambers within the estate. Even after more than four months of pregnancy, his wife still hunted, picked, and packed the flowers up from morning until night. Oh, he always made certain that Bessy kept a keen eye on her mistress, never allowing her to do more than an enceinte woman should attempt to do, but still he worried.

  The villeins had noticed their countess’s predilection toward the dandelion right off. Indeed, Lady Blackmore traipsing about the meadows collecting flowers with Melea, Bessy, and Megan in tow, was now a common sight for the villagers. She never showed interest in any flower save the dandelion, and the villagers—ever wanting to please the mistress—pitched in where they could.

  And then there were the gifts brought up from the village to the estate on a daily basis. Dandelion soups at luncheon, dandelion wines at supper, and dandelion dolls for the yet to be birthed heir—in case Kane had a girl obviously, for he refused to turn his son into a girlish lad. There were dandelions everywhere. It was driving him daft.

  George looked up from his dandelion tart and scowled across the dinner table at his wife. “How many more flowers must you pick?”

  Kane pushed the dandelion crown little Jamie McClure had made for her out of her eyes and back to its original resting place around her forehead. “Tomorrow is the last day.” Grinning, she picked up her glass of dandelion-spiced mead and saluted Melea with it. “To a mission almost accomplished.”

  Melea raised her glass of dandelion ale in response, smiling victoriously. “It’s hard to believe we’re almost finished.”

  Lady Julia chuckled. “I daresay it’s a good thing the deuce of you will be done in time to make ready for the party a sennight hence.”

  George grunted. “I am in agreement, madam. No use having the ladies and gentlemen of the ton think we’ve gone as daft over dandelions as the king has over the powdered wig.”

  Chester held his quizzing glass up to study the concoction on his plate that looked suspiciously like dandelion cheese. He grimaced, deciding it was best not to question just how such a monstrosity had been made in the first. He looked up, eyeballing his son-in-law through the quizzing glass. “A gentleman can only hope that the menu will be a trite more tempting at the soiree you’re throwin’.”

  George frowned. He stabbed his fork into his dandelion tart, splitting it into two halves. He said nothing.

  Alex harrumphed. “We haven’t had a decent bite to eat here for over a month. I’m bloody sick of these dandelion delicacies.”

  Kane set her glass down and glared at the gentlemen in the room in turn. “The three of you are terrible,” she scolded. “The people of this village work hard to put these dishes on our table and all you can do is complain like spoiled children.”

  Melea snorted her agreement. Lady Julia clapped an elegant hand over her giggling mouth. Alex and Chester grumbled, but didn’t naysay the countess.

  George lifted a raven brow in challenge. “Very well, my dear. Then on the morrow whilst you are breaking your fast, I expect to hear no complaints about the dandelion scrambled eggs.”

  Kane visibly winced. “That’s different,” she mumbled.

  “Oh?” he asked incredulously. “How so?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at her husband. “Because its awful.”

  * * * * *

  The last of the kabitross was gathered and sealed off the following day. An hour later, Kane and Melea contacted Linder and informed him that the mission was complete and that Melea would prepare to transport back to 2429 the morning following the Blackmore house party. Even though many of the guests scheduled to attend would be staying on for a week or more, since they would be travelling such a great distance to get there in the first, George had assured the women that the majority of them would leave after the third night. Melea could transport on the fourth morning.

  On the eve before the guests were scheduled to arrive, Kane and Melea took a brisk walk through the Blackmore country gardens. Just like in London, the ambiance provided by the fragrant trees and the deliciously scented flowers was too much to pass up. When the women happened upon a stone-carved bench in the middle of the palatial gardens, Kane drew them to a halt and asked Melea to have a seat.

  Melea grinned. “Getting tired these days from the growing one?”

  Kane didn’t smile back, or even attempt to make light of her best friend’s jest.

  Melea’s smile faltered. “What is it Kane? By the blessed Star Systems, please don’t drop anything new on my lap! You’ve a bad tendency as of late to ask me to go walking with you whenever you want to impart some frightening news.”

  Kane’s lips curled up wryly. She had to smile, if even a little, at that. “No. No frightening news. I just. I just…” She looked away, sighing.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you to leave, Melea. I wish you would reconsider staying.”

  Melea drew in a deep, dramatic breath. “What would I do here, Kane?” She shrugged. “It would not be enough for me to be a wife. I need to make a difference in whatever world I live in.”

  “It seems to me our very presence here makes a difference.”

  “How so?”

  Kane took a drawn out moment of silence to try and put into words what she felt. It wasn’t easy. As she had told her husband on several occasions, she was a planabotonologist, not a poetess. “This is a world where women have few rights. Yet here I am, practicing my healing arts amongst the villagers daily. Indeed, they now ask for me before going to a male physician, even though it has been firmly ingrained in them that woman healers are useful for nothing save birthings.

  “Every time I cure a headache, every time I concoct a potion that will relieve an old man of the ache in his bones brought on by old age, I know I am making a difference. I am helping to bring about the very changes that will eventually give women gain in this society.”

  Melea nodded thoughtfully. She said nothing.

  “And you,” Kane pressed on, “are a Warrior Woman. It’s true the vast majority of people in this time would never accept a woman fighter, yet they fight for a cause you do not accept, so why should you care?” She fluttered her hand through the air in a dismissive gesture.

  “It seems to me, Melea, that you have the power within you to find your own way. As Alex’s wife, as aggravating as it is that a woman can only wield power through her position in life to a man here, the fact remains that the power would still be yours.

  “Use that power to effect hope. Use that station to bring about a change of heart in these people.”

  She gazed into Melea’s eyes and smiled wistfully. “In 2429 we sit back and take for granted all of the benefits that were produced through years of blood, sweat, and tears of the first Women Warriors such as the suffragettes and the education reformists, or the feminists yet to come. To me it seems an honor, not a disgrace or even a matter of ‘settling’, to become one of them.”

  Melea inclined her head thoughtfully. No words could be more true, or, oddly enough, more poetic. It gave her much to consider. “I take your meaning, Kane.” She smiled warmly at her best friend, patting her affectionately on the knee. “Please give me time to think on the matter more thoroughly,” she asked quietly.

  “Take all the time you need. But consider one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re scheduled to leave in less than a week. Think quickly.”

  Chapter 33

  Charlotte simply couldn’t remove her sights from George. The earl was all she’d been able to think about for over two years, since the moment he had broken off their relationship. Even when he’d called a halt to their affair, she had always assumed that Blackmore would come back to her.

  Mayhap ‘twas because their sex life had been so enjoyable.

 
Mayhap ‘twas because the earl was a man, and men, married or no, eventually strayed back to whoever it was that gave them their pleasures.

  Mayhap ‘twas because George was the only of her patrons who had ever made her feel respectable, like she mattered. Like she was a person and not just a body.

  Charlotte sighed. With the exception of that unfortunate incident at the Emory ball, the earl had never once showed her even a hint of temper. He was always kind, generous, and caring to a fault.

  And she had to have him back. No matter what it took, she needed him.

  Charlotte felt the tiniest pang of guilt assail her once she reached her decision. She quickly brushed it aside, assuring herself that it was best for both she and George in the long run.

  She would help the gentleman as he had requested she do when he’d agreed to get her into the same parties George had been attending. She would now do as he asked. And she would get the earl back.

  Charlotte retrieved her reticule from the shabby chair provided by the inn and made her way for the doors.

  Chapter 34

  The first house party thrown by Kane in her debut as the Countess of Blackmore was a smashing success. The estate, mansion that it was, was filled to overflowing with noble guests and their entourages. There wasn’t a chamber not spoken for in the whole of the house. From duke to baron, duchess to baroness, they were all here. And, what’s more, they were having a grand time.

  “I thank you for inviting us, Lady Blackmore. Indeed, I cannot recall the last time I’ve laughed quite so much.” The Countess of Trent giggled deliciously, then threw back yet another glass of champagne.

  Kane grinned. “I’m glad you’re having an excellent time, my lady. And I’m glad to have finally met you. Your husband has told me much about you.”

  The countess clapped an elegant hand to her chest. “All good I hope.”

  “Of course.”

  The conversation between the two countesses was interrupted a few moments later by Lady Trent’s son, Viscount Freemont. “Oh Kane dearest,” the elder countess glowed, “I should like to introduce you to my dear son, James. Have you made his acquaintance yet?”