Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(73)

I gathered the food scraps quickly and added a stale biscuit from the tin by the window, the soldier’s thin shoulders clear in my mind. I heard a noise from the back of the house and I paused, expecting my aunt to appear with one of her multiple demands. When she did not I gave a sigh of relief, grateful for my aunt’s slovenly ways. Of course, why should she leave her bed before ten when she had three orphaned nieces who needed to earn their keep? I added two more biscuits for good measure, careful to redistribute the remaining bread so my gluttonous aunt wouldn’t realize any were missing.

I started out the door and down the dirt path; Cotton, my uncle’s oldest dog, soon joined me. My uncle had wanted to shoot him when he’d gotten his back leg caught in a trap. I’d begged him not to and the dog had been my constant companion ever since. He earned his keep, though, as an excellent watch dogˉso my uncle couldn’t complain too awful much.

“You walking with me today, old Cotton?” The dog often played and hunted rodents down on Jessup’s farm and would be a familiar sight to anyone who happened by. Jessup’s farm sat right in the middle of three others. His was the smallest and the other threeˉmy uncle’s, Mr. Hamer’s, and old Ezra Nems’ places all nudged up against the now abandoned property. All three men were now pushing and pulling to get a hold of Jessup’s place. Greedy, all of them. Greedy, greedy men.

We walked quickly down the path, yet I was careful to appear nonchalant, in the event anyone noticed me. I opened the door after checking to ensure no one else was about. I closed it behind myself, leaving the dog outside with the command to guard.

“Hello?” I asked, careful to keep my voice from echoing. If someone found me here, I’d be beaten and turned to the streetsˉRachel and Amelia along side me. “Are you here?”

I felt ridiculous at asking such a question, especially if the Confederate had left. If he had, he’d not get farˉhis body was not sufficiently healed, by my reckoning. I searched the first two horse stalls, looking for my belongings from last evening or some other sign of the soldier’s presence. I had to give him praiseˉif he was indeed still in Jessup’s barn, he hid the evidence well. Something rustled in the back of the barn that sounded too large to be a rat, and I hurried to the end of the stalls, expecting to find him there.

A hard arm snagged my waist, bunching my apron under my breasts; a large hand covered my mouth. I shook, terrified, until I saw the gray sleeve and knew it was him.

“Why did you come back? Were you followed?” The hand over my mouth lowered and his other armˉthe one around my middleˉloosened and I could breathe again. He shook me when I didn't answer. “Tell me.”

“No, no. I brought you food.” I squirmed, uncomfortable being held so tightly. I felt odd standing in this strange embrace. Much aware of his size and scorched by his heat against my back, I struggled to breathe against the arm strong around my waist. His breath touched my neck, tickling the tiny hairs there. I couldn’t help myselfˉI shivered again, this time from an emotion far different from fear, though I couldn’t determine just what it was exactly.

“Why were you so foolish? I thought I’d seen the last of you yesterday. Don’t you know it’s not safe for you to be here?” He turned me around to face him, much stronger than I thought his wound would allow.

“I didn’t want anyone to find my sewing notions, they might be recognized.” I tried to pull away from him. He smelled of leather and heat and strawˉa strange and appealing scent. He must have washed himself up some this morning; though his clothes were still dusty and now covered with straw, his hair was wet and slicked back, coal black in the morning light. “I thought you might need something to eat. Let me free!”

He released me and I stumbled. He stopped my fall, grabbing my arm in the same place my uncle had just a day or so earlier for some infraction I could not remember. I pulled away, rubbing my arm as I did so.

“I didn’t hurt you. I couldn’t have.” He stepped towards me, grabbing my arm again before I had time to react. He scowled at the dark marking. A clear imprint of a hand was visible. “Who did this?”

“My uncle. May I have my things back, please?”

“Why? Why did he do that, I mean?”

“No reason. My uncle doesn’t need a reason. I live on his charity, that's reason enough.” I tried to move around him, but he stopped me.

“Why do you stay? Where is your father?” He was so big that I couldn’t maneuver past him.

“My parents are gone.” I moved to a pile of hay in the corner, desperate to put a little space between us. He’d slept on this pile and I began mussing the straw, erasing any sign of him. “And I have two younger sisters who also live on Uncle's charity.”

“No husband? You’re old enough, and more than passable.”

“You’re too kind, sir. And that’s none of your business, is it?”

“Answer me.” Apparently, he was long accustomed to giving orders and expected me to obey.

“Because no one has dared ask me!” I blurted my secret shame. I had been in love onceˉuntil my cousin Beatrice had convinced Mark to court her instead. Beatrice was now expecting her first child and my uncle had promised Jessup Mill’s place to Mark. My eyes began to water as I thought of my heartache two years ago when they’d married. I turned so he wouldn’t see.