As he accepted a plate from Cook's son Thomas, Jackson wondered again what type of position Randi had held or family she'd grown up in where she didn't have to rise early. She didn't look or act like a pampered daughter, yet she was unfamiliar with the most basic functions of a working household.
She was as much a mystery today as she'd been nearly a week ago when he'd found her standing in his daughter's nursery. After last night, she shouldn't be his problem any longer. She should be on a packet headed south, back to a city where she supposedly had at least one friend named Miss Agnes Delacey.
Jackson stabbed a bite of sausage. Randi Galloway didn't know Miss Delacey. He'd bet his next year's crop on it.
As if his thoughts had conjured her up, she walked through the doorway of the dining room, looking even worse than he did after a nearly sleepless night.
"Good morning," she said, not meeting his eyes.
He settled back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I've had better. Are you here for breakfast?"
"No," she said, casting a glance at the buffet server. "I came down to apologize for my words and actions last night."
"Please have a seat," he said, frowning at her subdued attitude. He didn't fancy having her stand halfway down the long table, head bent as she studied the carpet.
"I'd rather not." She paused, taking a deep breath. "This won't take long."
"As you wish," he said, picking up his coffee cup. "What did you want to say?"
"I'm sorry," she started, blurting out the words as though she couldn't wait to say them, or perhaps because she was afraid to wait lest she lose her nerve. "I've had dreams of the flood. I suppose I just added you and Rose to my dreams. They scared me to death, and when I heard the other planters and you talking about the possibility of a flood, I overreacted. I'm sorry."
He studied her. She was lying again, just like she'd told stories about how she'd learned about the governess position, how she'd arrived here. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want to leave," she pleaded, finally looking him in the eye. "The truth is, I have no where else to go. I'm afraid that if I leave here, something awful will happen."
"To you?"
She nodded. "And to you too . . . and Rose. Despite my behavior, I really do care about her. She's a wonderful child. I've grown very close to her these past few days, and I can't stand the thought of my dreams coming true."
For once, he felt she was telling the truth. About not having anywhere to go, about caring for Rose. Jackson sighed in resignation "Are you willing to live by my rules?"
"Yes! I'll do whatever you say. I'll behave, I promise. I know I haven't been the best--"
He held up his hand. "Enough. Tomorrow we'll attend church services, where you'll have a chance to pray to God for the deceptions you've perpetrated. After that, I hope you'll conduct yourself in a more circumspect manner."
"I will!" He had the alarming premonition that she was going to run the length of the table and fling her arms around his neck. He wasn't sure how he'd respond if she did such an outrageous thing.
Ridiculous. Of course, he'd push her away. Gently, so as not to harm her. But firmly, so she understood that this physical attraction they shared would not be encouraged.
"Then I suggest you assist Suzette with duties for today. I'll consider your position here, although I'm not sure I'll trust you with the care of my daughter until you are more forthcoming about your past."
Her shoulders, which she carried so proudly, sagged, and the sparkle went out of her eyes. "I understand. I'll do as you wish."
He had the immediate and disturbing vision of her lying in his bed, her small, curvy body naked beneath soft sheets and moonlight. He pushed the image aside. She would not be doing
that
, despite his wayward thoughts. He apparently needed to attend church services as much as she.
"Be prepared to leave at this time tomorrow morning," he said brusquely. "If there's nothing further, I'd like to continue with my breakfast before it grows even colder."
"I'm sorry," she said again, looking like a whipped puppy as she turned around. Before she reached the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said in a flat, dull tone that was so unlike her usual tone of voice.
He broke eye contact, turning his attention back to his sausages and eggs. "You're welcome. I will see you tomorrow morning, Miss Galloway."
He knew the use of her proper name would serve as a slap in the face to her, since she valued the informality of Christian names so much. He hardened himself against the thought and refused to look at her. In just seconds, he heard her footsteps as she walked away.
Jackson Durant, master of Black Willow Grove, had behaved as was appropriate and proper, but as he sat alone at his long table, he wished he could become the younger, more carefree man he'd once been. That man would have teased and laughed with Randi Galloway. He might have even pulled her into his lap and fed her from his plate.
But that person was long buried in the past. He'd made a decision, and by God, he would see his dreams come true in a society where behavior and breeding were as important as money.
He hadn't just bought his way into this society; he'd become exactly what was expected of him. He could ask nothing less of those in his household.
Randi
awakened with the first light of dawn, knowing she had to be especially careful with her appearance and demeanor, today and every day until she managed to get home. After yesterday's humble apology in the dining room, she realized just how difficult her charade was going to be. Not only would she need to be aware of every word coming out of her mouth, but she had to watch her body language as well. She also couldn't show anyone that she'd lusted after the master of Black Willow Grove--or that he'd returned her feelings of desire. No, she was going to be a paragon of womanly virtue from now on if she had to bite her tongue and clamp a hand over her mouth.
She used the cool water in the washstand to clean up as much as possible, wishing for all the world she had access to a nice, hot shower. All week long, she'd had one bath, and only because she'd asked for a tub to be prepared. The tub had turned out to be something called a hip bath, a totally unfulfilling bathing experience.
Without a shaver for her legs, deodorant, lotion, and shampoo, she supposed
how
she bathed wasn't as important as just getting clean. Baking soda and harsh soap could only do so much, and using a straight razor was downright painful.
Today was especially important because she'd be seeing some of Jackson's friends and neighbors, and she didn't want to embarrass him. She'd done enough to make him suspicious of her; she couldn't afford another mistake.
She was used to going to church with her parents, but over the past ten years the dress code had become much more casual. Women wore slacks and blouses, men were free to come in shirt sleeves and no ties. She knew in Jackson's church she'd be expected to wear her "Sunday best." In 1849, that would be the pale green dress, she guessed, although judging the function and quality of these clothes was difficult since she didn't know what other ladies wore.
Melody slipped inside the door, her arms full of what looked like yards and yards of plaid fabric.
"I brought you a dress Miss Pansy never wore. Suzette and I finished up the hem and bows for you."
"That's so sweet," Randi said, folding her damp towel on the wash basin, then walking up to the maid. "What does it look like?"
Melody shook out the dress. So much plaid! She'd look as big as a house in this, Randi thought, but she didn't dare share her sentiments with the girls who had worked so hard to get a new garment ready for her to wear to church.
"Now, you're sure this is appropriate for church?"
"Yes, Miss Randi," Melody answered, her hand caressing the slick, polished looking fabric. "Miss Pansy was havin' the dress made for herself for church and visitin' when she found out she was carryin' a baby. The waist was too tight, so she never had it finished up."
"Okay, I trust your opinion," Randi said dubiously. "Let's see if it fits."
Melody helped Randi don the new dress and voluminous petticoats. This particular garment even had a small bustle made out of horsehair, Melody informed her. When Randi turned and looked into the cheval mirror in the corner, her eyes widened. Yards and yards of brown and green plaid jumped back at her, flounced from the low, pointed waist, and decorated with small tailored bows down the front of the skirt.
"My goodness," she said.
"Yes, ma'am. Isn't it the prettiest dress you've ever seen?" Melody said with a sigh.
"I've never seen anything like it," Randi answered honestly. "You're sure I should be wearing this to church?"
"Yes, Miss Randi. I know it's awf'ly fine, but it's not too fancy for church."
With a last glance in the mirror, she started toward the door. "I guess I'm ready."
"No, ma'am! We need to do your hair, and you'll need a bonnet for church."
"I will?" A bonnet sounded even uglier than the dress.
"If you'll come to the kitchen, we have the curlin' irons hot."
Curling irons? Randi obediently followed Melody down the back stairs to the hallway, then out the door to the detached kitchen.
Within a few minutes, the short hair around her face had been curled into ringlets, and a muddy green-colored taffeta bonnet had been settled on her head. She was sure she looked ridiculous, but all Melody, Birdie, and Cook all said she was dressed appropriately.
Suzette came into the kitchen with Rose perched on one hip. They all settled at the table as Suzette nursed the baby. Randi ate some toasted bread and great blackberry jam. She learned that the slaves had their own church, which Jackson "allowed" them to attend. They seemed thankful for his progressive attitude, but Randi found the whole idea of controlling their religion or access to church horrible. No matter how long she stayed in the past, she'd never get used to this culture. She couldn't wait to get home, where although everything wasn't perfect, at least the Constitution guaranteed equality.
But, Randi thought, taking Rose from Suzette after the baby finished nursing, she'd sure miss this baby. She'd even miss the strong feelings of desire that passed between her and Jackson Durant, no matter how misplaced those passions were.
Before long, Birdie announced that it was time to leave for church. Suzette hurried upstairs with Rose to change the baby into a nicer gown and a fresh diaper.
Randi's heart began to beat faster as she crossed the covered walkway to the main house. Jackson wasn't around, so she settled on a formal bench in the entryway to wait for him. The longer she sat, the more fidgety she became, but she was determined to behave properly.
A few minutes later, Jackson strolled downstairs, Suzette holding Rose several steps behind.
Randi watched him with greedy eyes that took in every detail, from his dark brown coat and tailored vest to the high-pointed collar and intricate printed neck cloth of his white shirt. His trousers were tan, tapered at the bottom over a pair of dark brown leather boots.
At least they'd match, she thought with a smile to herself.
He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt beneath his coat sleeves, then looked down at her. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," she answered, hoping her voice sounded properly demure instead of breathless and throaty.
"I haven't seen that dress before," he said as she stood up.
"No, it's . . . new."
His eyes skimmed over her, then he nodded. "Very well. The carriage should be brought around by now." He motioned to Suzette, who handed Rose to Randi.
"You'll take care of my daughter during the services," he announced. "She's just been fed, so she shouldn't be any trouble."
As if he could predict this things, Randi thought. But she held her tongue. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, perching the baby on her hip, venturing a slight smile in Jackson's direction.
He frowned. "Not that way. You look like a washerwoman. Hold her properly."
Randi's smile faded. "Yes, sir." She cradled the baby in her arms. Not only was the dress uncomfortable, just like all the rest, but now she had to hold Rose in an artificial and arm-killing fashion.
This is the price you have to pay
, she told herself.
Just don't say a word
.
#
Jackson shifted on the hard oak seat as the sermon drew to a close. He hoped Randi was able to hear the minister clearly from the servant's benches in the rear of the church, but he didn't dare check on her. He'd turned to look at her once and found her eyes burning with anger. Rose wasn't giving her any trouble, of that he was certain, because he hadn't recognized her fretting or cries.
The only other reason Randi might be in a temper was because he'd directed her to sit in the rear. Since she was caring for an infant, she was expected to be able to remove the child quickly if she started to disrupt the service. Surely Randi hadn't expected him to invite her to the Crowder family pew, where he sat with Thomas and Pansy's younger sister Violet. To have a servant sit with the family was highly unusual, unless a governess for older children sat with them to see that they behaved during the sermon.