Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers (3 page)

Chapter Four

Katherine fought down the urge to peer over her shoulder as the hired hack rocked to a halt where the rutted dirt drive curved before the front steps of a three-story whitewashed house. Ravenswood. Home to Garrett McKenzie.

And hopefully, far enough from Brunswick proper that Gerald Sanders would not find her.

“Here ye are, miss,” the driver said after pulling open the door and holding out a hand to assist her.

She got to her feet and stepped down onto the drive. “Thank you,” she replied distractedly, digging in her reticule to pay the fare.

“I thank you, miss. Good day.”

The hack rolled off, leaving her standing there with only her one battered satchel clutched in her fist. Her stomach tossed painfully, her mouth as dry as the reddish dust beneath her battered boots as she forced her feet to carry her up those steps and to the door.

She rapped once — twice — and winced as the door was jerked open by a stern-faced woman with iron-gray hair. Her dark eyes were cool as she said, “Yes?”

“Good day. Are you Mrs. Riley?” Katherine asked.

“I am.” Mrs. Riley’s voice was as cold as her eyes.

“I’m Katherine Bainbridge. I do believe Mr. McKenzie is expecting me.”

“Katherine? The new maid?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing at the front door? Don’t you know any better?”

Katherine felt the heat climb into her cheeks. Of course she knew better. Servants
never
used the front door. Certainly, she’d never had
that
problem before. It was the first time she’d ever been scolded for using the front door.

“Please, forgive my error, Mrs. Riley,” she replied, trying to keep the crispness from her voice. It wouldn’t do to have the housekeeper take an instant dislike to her.

“Next time, you come ’round to the kitchen and — ”

“I assure you, it’s all right, Mrs. Riley. Please just let the girl in.”

Katherine suppressed a groan as Garrett’s deep voice floated out onto the front porch. Her face grew hotter and she prayed the boards beneath her feet would open up and swallow her whole. She’d never felt so mortified in her life.

Mrs. Riley sniffed. “Of course, Mister Garrett.” Her eyes fell on Katherine once more. “Come in. You’re already forty-five minutes late.”

Of course she was late. First, she’d overslept. Then, she’d gotten into an argument with Miller over her final wages. Finally, it took forever to find a hack. It was nearly eleven now and she had no doubt that Garrett would be furious.

However, he didn’t seem all that put out as she stepped into the house’s slightly cooler interior. How long had he lived there? It seemed to her that the structure wasn’t quite completed yet. The room off to her right was littered with tools and scraps, the walls were bare, the floor rough and there wasn’t a stick of furniture to be found.

Garrett smiled down at her, his gaze lingering. “Good morning to you, Miss Katherine.”

“A good morning to you, also, Mr. McKenzie,” she replied, holding his gaze evenly.

Mrs. Riley cleared her throat and gave Katherine a sharp nudge. “Eyes down!”

Katherine bit her bottom lip to keep from snapping back at the sour housekeeper. She cast her eyes down, but not before seeing the grin playing at Garrett’s lips. Her temper sparked. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Mrs. Riley, please. Don’t be silly,” he said after a long moment. “It’s quite all right. I am your employer, not your lord and master. A little eye contact is hardly out of line.”

Katherine lifted her head. He was watching her with amused eyes. Her spine stiffened as she held his gaze for a long moment, determined
not
to be the first to look away. She’d have succeeded, if not for the subtle darkening of his amber eyes.

That did it.

She looked away, hating herself for doing it, but unable to avoid it. She gritted her teeth, hearing the amusement in his voice as he told Mrs. Riley that he would be in the parlor if she needed him.

Katherine didn’t look up but the solid
thud
of his boots on the floor, receding into the distance told her he’d left the room. When she looked up, it was to find Mrs. Riley frowning at her.

“Come with me, Katherine. We’ll get you dressed and I’ll explain your duties to you.”

Katherine followed the housekeeper up the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. They walked a short distance to another flight, this one leading to the third floor.

The heat grew thicker as they neared the top of the stairs. Mrs. Riley gestured to a door on her left. “You will sleep here. When Mister Garrett brings in more people, you will share your room with another maid. For now, you will have it to yourself and it will be your responsibility to keep clean. My chambers are at the end of the hall. Sidwell is Mister Garrett’s butler. His chambers are at the far end but you are not to venture in there except to gather his laundry.”

“Of course.”

“Now, let’s get you changed, shall we?”

Katherine smoothed down her sedate gray skirt. “What is wrong with this, might I ask?”

“We wear black. Black linen dresses and a clean, white apron. You are to remain clean at all times. If you get a spot of something on your apron, you will change it at once.”

“Is Mr. McKenzie so fussy?”

“No. It’s
my
standard. You are a reflection upon me, Katherine. As such, you will look impeccable at all times. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, get changed.”

Katherine nodded, all the while inwardly sticking her tongue out at the pompous little woman. A little bit of power and it apparently went straight to her head. Oh well, she’d dealt with her share of difficult people.

Mrs. Riley left her alone in the tiny room. Katherine could hear her clumping down the stairs as she closed the door and crossed to tug open the lone window. The room was so stuffy she could barely breathe.

The open window did little to make the room more comfortable. The false summer weather was stubbornly hanging around, although the billowing gray clouds in the distance hinted that a thunderstorm might be forthcoming. Katherine sank onto the narrow bed, sweeping the ridiculous cap from her head. She didn’t know why she’d donned it in the first place, it made her feel even hotter and made her scalp itch like mad.

“What am I doing here?” she murmured, looking around at the plain white walls. The entire room was plain. The walls had no adornments, no paintings, nothing to give it any life whatsoever. The narrow bed was equally plain. A simple pale blue quilt over pale sheets. An empty vanity with a small, oval mirror as its only adornment. Even the floor was bare.

She groaned, rolling her eyes as she hurled the silly cap across the room. “Well, I suppose I ought to go below before that woman is banging on the door to drag me down.” She glanced down at the dress spread out beside her and frowned. It was one of the ugliest garments she’d ever seen — purest black, and as plain as the walls.

Simple, dull, unadorned black.

She tried not to think of the beautiful clothes she’d left behind in London. She never would have owned
anything
in black. Her wardrobe was alive with the bright, vibrant colors an unmarried lady reveled in. Of course, at twenty-five, she was beginning to feel silly in them, but they were her one joy as it appeared no suitor was going to ask for her hand.

The thought of being a spinster didn’t make her happy, but there was little she could do about it. Although —

It was odd, for she’d had several suitors. However, each time a gentleman expressed an interest in marriage, that interest seemed to wane quickly.

Stop it!
Katherine squeezed her eyes shut at the unwanted memories.
Do not dwell on the past. It no longer matters.

Swallowing her rising sadness, she undressed and got into the dress. The skirt brushed the tops of her sensible leather walking boots. Not a fraction of ankle showed at all. The long sleeves hid her arms and the high neck practically brushed her ears.

With it, Mrs. Riley had left a snowy white apron with delicate frills around the edging. Katherine dropped it over her head and tied the bow as straight as she could. She wished she had a full-length mirror, but there was none in the room.

“I must look absolutely silly,” she muttered, smoothing a hand over the spotless apron. “Perhaps I ought to rethink this entire matter.” When he hired her, Miller explained she’d fare better if she offered up more than simply ale and liquor. His suggestion that she lower her bodice made her uncomfortable at first, but it proved his theory, as men were eager to slip an extra gold piece into her hand. She might not like it, but every coin she could save made it worthwhile.

Looking down at the stiff apron, she scowled. Given the choice, she preferred the discomfort of being on display to the drab, heavy
black
dress. At least there, she could add a bit of color to her wardrobe, meager as that wardrobe was.

“Well, I don’t suppose I can put this off much longer.” She took a deep breath as she grasped the doorknob and pulled open the door.

She found Mrs. Riley in the kitchen, kneading a lump of grayish-looking dough. “Mrs. Riley?”

The older woman looked up. “I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you, Katherine.”

“I believe you wished to go over my duties.” Katherine was determined to not let this woman order her around anymore than necessary.

Mrs. Riley glared at her for a long moment, as if debating whether or not to take her to task for her cheek. Finally, she pressed her lips together. “Yes. I did. As you can see, Mister Garrett has yet to hire a cook. For the time being, you and I will share that chore.”

“I am afraid I don’t know how to cook,” Katherine said, panic coming to life. “He said nothing to me about cooking. Just being a maid.”

Mrs. Riley heaved a mighty sigh, as if this only added to her burden. “Very well. I suppose I will teach you. But tell me, are there any other skills in which you are lacking?”

It was on the tip of Katherine’s tongue to put the condescending housekeeper in her place by telling her that at one point, she’d had servants at
her
command. But it would be too dangerous. It could lead to questions she did not wish to answer about events she wished to forget.

“I can assure you, I have the skills needed to dust furniture and wash windows,” she replied bluntly, not caring how red Mrs. Riley’s face grew.

And grow red she did. Mrs. Riley sniffed. “Well, I can see we will need to work on your disposition. I
will
be speaking to Mister Garrett about this.”

Katherine’s heart gave a little leap. It was one thing to disagree with the housekeeper, quite another to defy her employer. “I apologize, Mrs. Riley. I was taken by surprise by what was expected of me. Mr. McKenzie never mentioned he was in need of a cook. Had he, I would have told him that I was not qualified for such a position.”

That seemed to mollify Mrs. Riley, for she nodded. “Very well. We will begin your first lesson now.”

“Now?” The kitchen was unbearably hot due to the large fire crackling on the stone hearth and the one burning beneath the brick oven. Katherine could feel perspiration dampening her skin beneath the heavy black gown. It wouldn’t be long before her hair pulled free from its braid to paste against her temples in wet strings. What
had
she gotten herself into?

“Now.” Mrs. Riley turned her back to Katherine and returned to the lump of dough on the battered maple table. “Come over here and I will show you how to make a loaf of bread.”

“Yes, Mrs. Riley.” Katherine followed her, hovering at her elbow as she fought the urge to draw the back of her hand across her forehead.

It was a long, uncomfortable afternoon. The kitchen grew warmer and, as she’d predicted, her hair rebelled. She felt uncomfortably sticky and couldn’t wait until Mrs. Riley called it a day so she could scrub the layer of grime from her skin.

She didn’t see Garrett until near suppertime. Mrs. Riley had retired to her room to freshen up, while Katherine had only the energy to sink down at the kitchen table. She groaned, resting her head in her hands. She was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to put her head down right there on the table and go to sleep. “Oooh…”

Perhaps he’d made the softest of noises.

Perhaps she sensed his arrival.

Perhaps she was simply sensitive to the sensation of being watched.

She didn’t know why, but she twisted about to find Garrett standing in the doorway, an odd expression on his face. Not quite a glare, not exactly a smile. Either way, it vanished as quickly as it came as he stepped into the kitchen. “What goes on here?”

“I apologize,” she murmured, surprised at the fire brewing in his eyes. She started to rise. “I was resting.”

“No. Sit. Please.” He shook his head, spreading his arms out to sweep around the room. “I meant, what are you doing in here?”