Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (7 page)

“
Gibbs
!”

The man’s shout in the confined
space of the carriage was startling. A vision of Squire Wentworth with the
veins bulging in his neck, with his clutching hands reaching for her face,
flashed before Millicent’s mind. She quickly buried the terrifying image in the
recesses of her mind. With her heart pounding in her chest, Millicent quelled
her impulse to fling open the door and leap out.  Through the small window, she
could see the curious glances of the servants in the courtyard. 

“I told you that he would be coming
back shortly, m’lord,” she said, keeping her tone reasonable. 

“
Gibbs
!”

The impotent fury that laced his
shout drew Millicent off the edge of the seat. She crouched beside him again.

“Tell me how I can help you. It is
your arm, is it not?” This time she didn’t bother to ask for his cooperation.
Instead, looping an arm around his waist, she desperately tried to shift him
enough to free the arm. She just could not muster the strength to move him. And the earl was doing nothing to help her. Nonetheless, she continued to try.

When Gibbs yanked open the carriage
door a minute later, Millicent’s hair had already escaped the tight bun on top
of her head, her dress was crumpled and twisted, and her body was tangled on
the floor with the Earl of Aytoun’s. Out of breath, her face flushed, she
looked up at the manservant, who stopped to stare with one eyebrow raised. 

“Pardon me, m’lady, I didna know ye
planned to start your honeymoon quite so soon.”

“There is no physician traveling
with them,” Millicent advised the housekeeper a few minutes later as they were
heading toward the kitchen. “But Mr. Gibbs informed me that a Dr. Parker will
be coming once a fortnight from London and will remain with us overnight. So
for the moment, I should like to put Ohenewaa in the chamber you’ve prepared
for the doctor.”

To Mary’s credit, she never even
batted an eye at the suggestion of putting the woman in one of the guest
bedchambers.

“She needs a bath, m’lady, and some
clothes. Violet tells me that on the ride up from London, the woman scarcely
spoke a word. One of the girls was able to spoon some broth into her when she
was just coming around, but as soon as she knew which end was up, the poor dear
went back to her place by the kitchen door. Curious thing, though, as quick as
word went round that she was here, I’ve had more field hands poking their heads
into that kitchen to see her. But still she continues to stare at the wall. If
you don’t mind my asking, m’lady, who is she?”

“I believe she is seen as someone
very special. I don’t know her entire history, but I do know she belonged to a
physician named Dombey, who traveled on many slave ships and lived in Jamaica between his travels. Before I even went to London, I had heard numerous stories of
this woman’s courage. Even as Dr. Dombey’s slave, she was well known for the
many ways she helped people on the sugar plantations there, my late husband’s
included.”

In the kitchen, Mrs. Page went off
to organize her staff of workers. Millicent was relieved to see Amina already
there and speaking quietly with the old woman. Married to Jonah last summer,
the younger woman was quickly becoming Mary’s right hand in running the house
at Melbury Hall. 

“All of us are grateful to you,
m’lady, for bringing her here,” Amina said quietly, joining her mistress in the
middle of the kitchen.

“She looks hungry and weary.”
Millicent watched the tall, thin frame of Ohenewaa sway near the door. “Why is
she refusing to come inside?”

“Her pride. Not knowing what is
expected of her here.”

Giving an understanding nod,
Millicent walked toward the old woman. Ohenewaa’s dark eyes remained fixed on
the wall in front of her. Hers was a face lined by age and disappointment.

“We’re happy you’re here,
Ohenewaa,” Millicent said softly. “There is no need for you to stand by the
door. Would you please come in?”

“I was told I am a free woman.”

“You are.”

“Then I do not wish to step inside
a slaveholder’s home.” The old woman’s gaze shifted to Millicent’s face and
then back to the wall again.

“I do not hold any slaves,
Ohenewaa. I do not believe in owning or abusing innocent people. All the
workers you see at Melbury Hall today, regardless of the color of their skin,
or where they were born or came from, are here of their own will.”

“I have seen how Wentworth treated
his workers in Jamaica.”

Millicent could hear the diamond
edge of the woman’s voice draw steadily across glass.  

“That was my husband. Not I,”
Millicent replied passionately. “And I am trying, Ohenewaa. Since the death of
the squire, I am doing my best to mend some of the injustices done to the
people. I lost those plantations in Jamaica before anything could be done. But I am trying here.”

The black woman’s gaze once again
moved away from the wall and rested on Millicent’s face. “What do you wish from
me? What do I have to do to earn my keep?”

Millicent paused to answer. The
dark, penetrating gaze continued to look into her soul.

“It would be a lie if I said you
have to do nothing. We need help of all kinds. The truth is that I don’t know
yet what you can do here.” This time she was the one who fixed her gaze on the
cracks running in every direction on the wall. “I came to the auction yesterday
because I recognized Dr. Dombey’s name in the notice in the newspaper. I came
because I had failed to act effectively when Jasper Hyde took over Wentworth’s
plantations. There were so many lives that I did not save. Thoughts about if I
were a stronger person, if I had acted quickly enough, continue to plague me. I
wonder if, had I traveled there myself, I could have kept the plantations.”

She turned to face the older woman.
“In freeing you, I suppose I hope to lessen my guilt. And in bringing you here,
I hoped to remind my people--and myself--that strength and courage like yours
are to be aspired to.” 

“I am a healer. Nothing more.”

“In Jamaica, you were the one
person whom they knew they could trust. That was everything to them.” Millicent
noticed more than a few of the kitchen helpers and servants had paused in their
work. Many eyes were on them, curious as to the outcome. She gentled her voice.
“At least for now, until you have the opportunity for employment, will you
please stay at Melbury Hall as my guest?”

“If I step across this threshold,
it will not be to ease your conscience, but to ease my hunger.”

Millicent smiled. “I respect that.
We both have a reason. They do not conflict. And that is as good a place as any
to start.”

Ohenewaa looked about the room at
the cluster of hopeful faces before
stepping through the door and into
the house.

****

The air was frigid, the ground
frozen. The night was dark, and the woods were threatening. Violet, however,
scarcely gave the possible dangers a second thought. She had been passing
through this deer park at least twice a week for over a month on her way to
him. Lifting the hem of the quilted petticoats she’d been given by her mistress
last month, she stepped over a fallen branch. Violet herself had embroidered
the long apron she was wearing over the petticoats. And the pleated taffeta
around her neck was a gift she’d bought herself when she and her mistress had
been in London. She wanted to look pretty for Ned.

Ned Cranch—tall and broad with
muscles as hard as rock—was a stonemason who had come in the fall to Knebworth Village to build the new grange. They had met outside church one Sunday morning. And after that, every time Vi had gone to the village, the handsome green-eyed giant had been
there, tipping his hat or making some sweet remark about how good she looked or
smelled.

Mrs. Page had witnessed Ned’s
sweet-talking a couple of times and had given Vi an earful about being careful,
of course. But Violet was already eighteen, and she knew exactly what she was
doing.

She was getting herself a husband.

Vi emerged from the woods and ran
to the edge of the meadow above the village. He wasn’t there, and Vi looked
with concern at the lights in the windows of the cottages below. But before she could worry for long, powerful arms encircled her from behind, and she stifled a
gasp as she was turned around in Ned’s embrace.

He kissed her lips before she could
whisper a greeting. His attentions were already becoming an obsession to her,
and Vi dug her fingers into his thick, wavy blond hair and opened up to him so
he could deepen the kiss the way he’d taught her. At last he tore his mouth
away, but his hands continued to press her to him.

“I’ve missed you so much, Ned,” she
whispered while kissing the muscular column of his throat.

“Aye, lass, I know the feeling.” He
tossed his chin in the direction that she had come. “And with all the big
doings at Melbury Hall, I didn’t know if ye’d be getting away.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You
heard about it already?”

“Some. Ye know how village folk
talk.” His mouth dipped to her neck, and she shivered as his teeth nibbled and
his lips brushed over her skin. “I’ve been looking forward to this
since
I saw ye last.”

“You are the devil, Ned Cranch.” She
sighed.

“Who told ye?” he said with a
laugh. “But tell me, Vi, is it true that yer lady has fetched herself a new
husband?”

“As sure as I’m standing here,”
Violet managed to say, almost purring with pleasure as he kneaded her breast
through the dress. Ned’s caresses had become more and more intimate with each
meeting. At the beginning, it had been only kisses. Over the past couple of
weeks, though, Ned had begun touching her in places that made Violet shudder
with excitement. But touching had been the extent of it.  Vi knew that—in spite
of Mrs. Page’s words of warning buzzing in her head—not much could happen if
they kept their pleasures at this. 

“And they’re saying she brought
herself back a new slave as well.” Ned’s hand moved down over her stomach.

“An old woman.” Vi closed her eyes
and leaned into him as his hand reached the junction of her thighs. “Her name
is Ohenewaa, and she is already freed.”  

“Ye can tell me all about it
later.” His lips took hers in a dizzying kiss. Suddenly he pulled away and
wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

His eyes danced with mischief when
he looked at her. “Back to my room at the Black Swan. We’ll go in through the
back door, lass. Nobody will see ye.”

Violet hesitated. What he surely
had in mind was the one thing that she was hoping to avoid, at least until he
asked her to marry him.

“What’s wrong with staying here?”

Ned put his arms around her and
placed his hands on her buttocks as he kissed her. She could feel the size of
him as he rubbed himself hard against her. “What I want to do to ye, my sweet,
means taking every stitch of your pretty clothes off and then kissing every
inch of your skin. Now, we can do that here, if ye like, but ‘twould be a mite
cold, I should think.”

Her body was on fire, but her brain
was still working.

“Ned, I don’t think we should.” Vi
was sorry the moment she voiced her objection, for a look of hurt came into his
eyes. “You know I’ve never…well, never done this before. ‘Tis just that I am
nervous. Afraid, to be honest.” 

“Nothing to be afraid of. But I’m in no hurry, lass. We’ll stay right here, if ye like.” He smiled and led her to a fallen
tree at the edge of the woods. 

“You don’t mind, Ned?” she said as
he pulled her onto his lap. “Really?”

“Nay, my dream. And I know just how to get your mind off your worries.” He caressed her thighs, sliding his hand
slowly upward until she drew in a breath sharply. “Aye, ye just think of
Melbury Hall and tell me whatever ye want about it. And I’ll kiss your neck--this
pretty little spot here below your ear, and ye can keep talking. How’s that?”

“Are you sure—” She gasped as he
rubbed harder. “Are you sure you’re not put off?”

“Put off? Nay, lass.” He lifted his
head. “In fact, I wasn’t going to say this now, but perhaps ‘tis for the best.”

“What is it?”

“I love ye, Vi.”

“You do?”

“Aye,” he said, turning his
attentions back to her neck. “But tell me what’s doing at the Hall.”

It seemed quite awkward to
Millicent, retiring for the night without having seen or spoken with the Earl
of Aytoun again. His man, Gibbs, and two of the valets had taken their master
to his chambers after the ordeal in the courtyard. At his request, she’d had
dinner sent upstairs. The earl’s servants appeared quite proficient in seeing
to all of his needs.

No complaints. No requests.
Everything had been deathly quiet since dinner. But as she left Mary in the servants’ hall, Millicent couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that merely giving
Lord Aytoun a suite of rooms was not at all what the dowager countess had
wanted when she asked Millicent to marry her son. She had clearly stated that
she wanted someone with compassion.

To bring herself to the point of
getting closer to her new husband, though, Millicent had to crush the seeds of
anxiety inside of her. In the few short hours that she had spent in London after marrying him, she had heard a number of grim reports about Lyon Pennington.
The man had a notorious temper. He had definitely fought at least four duels
during the spring before his accident. There were rumors of others, too. And there was a general belief that he had killed his wife.

Wentworth had killed his first
wife. And on more than a few occasions, he had nearly taken Millicent’s life,
too. She cringed, remembering the first time. In her mind’s eye, she could
still see him taking his riding crop and approaching her. She had stood
disbelieving at what was happening. They had been married less than a month. It
was a miracle that she had survived him, survived their marriage.