Past Lives (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

The Storm Rolls In

I was kneading dough, my eyes focused on nothing in particular, when Dolly came rushing in. I knew that face…surprise guests meant we needed to get refreshments ready yesterday. I tossed my dough on the counter and washed my hands quickly in a bucket, preparing.

“It’s even worse than usual, J,” Dolly huffed as she pulled out silver serving trays and began putting together the teatime snacks.

“Why?” I asked. “We’ve already got tea snacks prepared—they’re just a little early.”

Still bustling around, opening cabinets and pulling out teacups, she explained.

“We’ll be having a new household member, indefinitely. Master’s niece is here. Apparently her parents were both tragically killed in a fire at a hotel in Atlanta, and now she has nowhere to go.”

I mulled this over. Being a member of a household, even an unseen member, meant that you still knew everything about everyone. It helped to have a brother who went to all of the social engagements—not by necessity, but rather because Bastian hated the way everyone else acted and wanted his friend by his side. The stories he told sometimes made me wild with desire. If only I could wear a beautiful dress and have handsome men bring me punch! Conversely, we had also heard that there were certain Liddell relations that were notorious for treating their servants and slaves abysmally. Given Dolly’s reaction, I was sure we were about to get a new member that would turn our world on its head.

“What should we do?” I asked, scared. Our serving maid was out sick and no one was on call…that day of all days! Dolly ran over to a drawer and pulled out a maids dress and apron.

“You’re up, kid. Just try not to spill on anyone upstairs,” she said dourly. My heart began to race as I stepped into a back room and began to change. At least Jack would be there for support, I thought bleakly. By the time I stepped out of the closet, Dolly had the trays prepped and ready to go. She gave me a quick pat down to expel any wrinkles and then gave me a swift hug.

“Off you go, then,” she shooed, and I took a shaky tray in hand and made my way up the serving staircase, trying to stay steady as I reached the top step. I took a bracing breath as I approached the door to the library, and knocked gently before coming in.

“Ah, the tea,” Missus Liddell said, her voice femininity defined. I set down the tea and cakes on the correct table, and began to recite from memory how everyone liked their tea. I did my best not to make eye contact.

“And who do have we here?” I turned, knowing that I was being addressed. The newcomer was just as beautiful as Missus Liddell, just a younger version. Knowing then that she came from that side of the family, I knew just how cruel they were as owners and masters of the house. I glanced up to meet her piercing blue gaze before giving a small curtsey.

“My name is J, miss,” I said, not sure whether to keep making the tea or wait until she finished the conversation. I paused, unsure of what to do.

“Well,
J
,” she said, slurring my name like it was a rodent of some kind…a really bad rodent. My stomach dropped. I looked up to my brother for help. He stood in the corner, his expression very clearly telling me to simply hold it together. The girl continued.

“You’re far too pretty to be simply a maid. With that face, you should have been taught to be a ladies maid at the very least,” she said, though her compliment felt more like a threat. I mumbled a thank you and waited for her to finish whatever she was trying to prove by talking to me. This was the only home I had really known, and I was terrified every day of losing it because of a silly mistake. I had seen it happen to so many others. Appearances were everything. She turned to Missus Liddell.

“I should so like to have my own ladies maid. Mine was stupid enough to get killed in that horrible fire,” she moaned, her meaning clear. Missus Liddell didn’t miss a beat.

“And so you shall, you poor, poor dear. Still, J here has only ever been trained in the kitchen. Surely we can find someone else, someone well trained, to be in your direct service?”

I glanced up at the girl, her eyes focused on me as though I were an ant she wished to kill. Not removing her eyes from me, she gave her answer.

“That will not be necessary. I am very particular, and I will teach this girl everything she’ll ever need to know.”

And still I waited, chained to the whim of those above me. Having known nothing but the back of the house, and liking it that way, I began to dread what was coming next. Missus Liddell sighed.

“As you wish, my dear. Jack, take J to get fitted into proper clothing immediately. She must have a few dresses to start with, and we’ll go from there.”

Jack bowed, looking excited. This did mean that we would get to spend more time together, after all. Our identical expressions flicked to each other in muted glee, though no one could see it but us. I curtseyed, finished pouring the tea, and prepared to leave. Missus Liddell laughed, a tinkling sound that belonged in a fountain.

“J, don’t you want to know who you’re going to be serving?”

I cursed myself inwardly. First rookie mistake.

“Yes, of course. Please forgive me,” I said, clipping my words as finely as I knew how. The girl smiled, and it was anything but friendly.

“Call me Miss Jean. I’m looking
so
forward to having you as my maid.”

***

So, if you’ve been paying attention up to this point, you can probably guess that the next three years of my life were miserable. Miss Jean isolated me as much as she possibly could, forbidding me to speak with any of the slaves unless absolutely necessary—which meant I had to hide anything that went on between Giselle and me. She even went as far as to try to keep me away from Dolly, which was impossible. Whenever I got a moment to myself I was down in the kitchen, telling Dolly just how wretched Miss Jean really was.

And she
was
wretched. She picked me apart from day one—criticizing my hair, the tilt of my nose, my complexion, my Irish lilt. She made sure I knew how hideous I was…to the point that Giselle’s comment about my beauty dissolved like a raindrop in a pond. The beatings were the worst of it. If a single stitch was askew in any of the clothing she gave me, her face would fall into a mask of mock disappointment.

“Oh, J. You are just so useless. Maybe if I have your little friend beaten…what is her name? Well, never mind that. Let’s have you both down for lashes, courtesy of the plantation manager,” she said, leaving the room and calling for another maid to fetch my father and Giselle. I allowed myself a few bitter tears before hastily wiping my face and changing before making my way down to a small circle of dirt where the lashings usually took place. My father was already waiting for me.

“Can’t you just do your damn job, girl?” he asked angrily. I glared him down. We barely spoke, especially after Jack and I were moved into the house as higher-level servants. He was lucky I was still willing to risk my own skin by dragging him to bed when he got too drunk, when the others couldn’t convince him to leave. I would have to pretend to be my mother and lure him by bringing out my accent. It worked every time.

Giselle was dragged from behind a few willow trees, and she stumbled as one of the men tossed her into the circle before going back to the fields. I almost laughed as she launched some very unladylike curses at him before rising and dusting off her skirts. She joined me and grasped my hand, hard.

“Don’t cry out, J,” she said in a harsh whisper. “Then they know they can break you.”

My father was gazing up, and when I turned I saw Miss Jean watching from an upstairs window. He shook his head.

“With her watchin’ I can’t go easy on you. I suggest you find a piece of wood to bite on,” he said, grim as ever. I glanced around at the smattering of sticks outlining the circle, presumably already used by any number of people. I decided to take my chances on biting my tongue. I wore a potato sack to save on more expensive serving clothes, and Giselle wore her usual blouse and skirt. The blouse had been patched so many times I was amazed it even continued to function at all, but it was sturdy like its wearer. Sebastian and Jack ran out, both freezing at the sight of me preparing to be lashed.

“Jean, you can’t seriously think of beating this poor girl!” Sebastian called out, glaring at her window. Jean yawned.

“I’ve had Irish servants before, Sebastian. They don’t improve without it being beaten into them that they must. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” she crooned from the window, settling in more comfortably to enjoy the show. I cast one glance at Sebastian, who stepped forward as though to stop my father, Jean be damned. Before he could get there my back screamed in agony as the whip cracked against me, peeling a layer of skin away. I couldn’t help the cry that ripped from me as I fell to the ground, my whole body pounding in pain. Arms came around me, and I was surprised to see Bastian hovering above.

“You will stop this now,” he demanded, his voice steel. “House servants are not to be beaten, ever. As the heir to this plantation, I demand it to be so.”

I could hear Miss Jean’s arch voice from the window, floating down on the breeze.

“You’re really quite insufferable, Sebastian, but if you insist on placing yourself between the lash and my maid, I demand retribution in the beating of the slave girl instead. I simply will not rest until justice is done.”

Sebastian’s expression hardened even further. “You won’t be damaging my staff simply to suit your own fancy.”

Even from the ground below, I could see the determined little crease etch into Miss Jean’s brow. She was not used to not getting her way. Never one to accept the appearance of weakness, she carefully smoothed her expression and gave a tinkling laugh.

“You’re so soft, Sebastian. Your servants take advantage of you.”

Sebastian glared up at the balcony, his expression darkening. Seeing his fury, I was glad for the first time not to be in Miss Jean’s lacy shoes.

“Your cruelty does not serve you in this household, Jean. I suggest you learn to practice kindness if you wish to continue living here.”

I gazed on in wonder as Miss Jean rose stiffly and strode into the house, not bothering to look back down her nose at us. I flinched when Sebastian stood and held out his hand to help me up. The hurt in his eyes made me regret my reaction immediately.

“Are you able to stand?”

I reached a shaking hand up to grasp his clean, polished grip. Even that act sent stinging pain down my spine, and I hissed. Sebastian’s shoulders tensed, and he glared at my father.

“You are never to lay a hand on her again, no matter what anyone says. Understood?”

My father nodded obediently.

“Yes, sir.”

I felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around my middle, and looked up to see Sebastian’s face inches from mine. I felt my blush shoot past my ears.

“Let me help you, J. Jack, can you get Dolly to help make something to soothe her wound?”

“Of course,” Jack said, his expression clouded. He paused for a half second, a true expression of his concern in our limited public repertoire, before walking briskly back to the kitchen.

I allowed Sebastian to lift me, leaning heavily into his lean body. In spite of the pain searing my skin, I felt…comfortable. Gently, he walked me up through the main entrance, breaking yet another rule, and to the servants’ quarters. When we reached the head of a long hallway lined with sturdy wooden doors, he paused. I could feel his discomfort seeping through our connected bodies.

“I’m afraid I don’t know which room is yours,” he said, his gaze flicking down to mine. I almost smiled.

“Third on the left.”

He opened the door to my sparsely furnished bedroom and helped me sit carefully on the bed. Seeing a stool in the corner, he deftly pulled it under him and sat in front of me.

“Will you be alright, J?” he asked. His hands twitched, like they were about to reach out for my own. Idly, I imagined what it would feel like to hold his hand…then let the thought dissolve. No use for that nonsense in my life. I gave him as encouraging a smile as I could muster.

“Of course,” I said, prepared to let loose my tongue and beg to be removed from Miss Jean’s service. I would do anything to keep that vile woman from being in control of my life. Before I could allow the unacceptable words to leave my mouth, though, Dolly came swishing in, a pot of salve in her hands.

“Master Sebastian, thank you for your gallantry, but it is most improper for you to be in here. I can take it from here.”

Sebastian spared me one last lingering glance before replacing the stool and heading for the door.

“I hope you feel better soon, J,” he said, his gaze cast downward as he turned to leave the room.

“Sebastian?” I whispered, unable to stop myself. He turned and looked at me expectantly.

“Thank you.”

This time he smiled broadly and bowed elaborately.

“Any time, milady.” He winked, and the next moment, he was gone.

This turn of events did nothing to ease Miss Jean’s ire. Years continued to pass, and nothing I did was ever right, yet she always refused when Missus Liddell recommended I go back to the kitchen and she get a new maid.

“How will she ever learn if I do not instruct her thoroughly?” Miss Jean purred one day, as I stood in the corner trying very hard not to exist. I glanced down at my toes, encased in shiny, upper class servant shoes. I missed my old, comfortable kitchen maid shoes…the ones made for actually walking in. That day my brother came in behind Sebastian, both looking fresh from a morning ride.

“Hello all! How are my lovely ladies?” Sebastian asked, looking around the room, even at me. I gave him a shy smile and bobbed a small curtsey. His eyes lingered a second longer than they should have, and unfortunately, Miss Jean noticed.

“J, please curtsey like a good servant, and not like a slave. Honestly, I thought I trained you better than to act like a negress.”

Bastian’s eyebrows knit in disapproval. He opened his mouth, presumably to maybe even come to my defense, when Master Liddell whooshed into the room, his face an unfortunate shade of puce. He strode to Sebastian and unashamedly wrapped the young man in his stubby arms.