Prologue #3
Aye, Daniel Guthrie had been a cruel man indeed, Susanna thought, feeling no grief at this startling news of his death.
Instead, euphoria mixed with relief was rising from some deep place inside her.
It was probably a terrible sin for her to feel this way about her father, but she had the most unseemly urge to fling back the covers and jump up and down upon the bed.
He couldn’t hurt her anymore! Never again would he kick her awake and shove her out the door to beg before the sun had risen.
Never again would he try to sell her for some man’s pleasure!
Misreading Susanna’s silence for shock, Lady Redmayne gently squeezed her hand and gave a reserved smile, which appeared to be something she was not accustomed to doing very often.
“My child, I can think of only one way to make amends for your loss of home and hearth. I offer you a place within my household. I fully expect that, with proper training, you will make an excellent waiting-maid to my eleven-year-old grandniece, Camille. She’s a good, gentle girl who also wants very much to help you.
As we’re leaving London tomorrow, I can’t give you much time to think it over—”
“I’d be happy t’ live in yer ‘ousehold, milady,” Susanna exclaimed in a breathless rush, astonished by her good fortune.
A waiting-maid! In this fine lady’s home!
And she had believed she’d be lucky if she found work as a scullery maid, scrubbing dirty pots and pans.
“I learn fast, I do, y’ll see. Ye won’t regret yer kindness t’ me, I promise.
” Then a sudden shadow, black and menacing, fell over her heart, and fear thickened like a lump in her throat.
“Yer ladyship, there was another man at the accident. He must ‘ave been the one who shoved me out o’ the way o’ the coach. ”
Lady Redmayne shook her meticulously coiffured head. “When I was helped from the carriage, I saw a man standing over you, but he disappeared into the fog when shouts went up for the constable. Why, child? Was he a friend of yours? Perhaps you would rather we find him—”
“No!” Susanna bit her lip at Lady Redmayne’s astonished expression, and she quickly sought to explain her rude outburst. “Forgive me fer raisin’ me voice, yer ladyship.
What I meant t’ say was, well, ‘e was no friend o’ mine, no matter that ‘e saved me life. He was cut from a worse cloth than me father, if y’ know wot I mean.
That’s why I was runnin’ away. Me father had sold me t’ ‘im. That man wanted me to—to—”
“I can well imagine,” Lady Redmayne interrupted gently, her eyes full of pity which nonetheless quickly faded.
She squared her delicately boned shoulders, her spine ramrod-straight as her tone grew brusque but not unkind.
“So we’re decided, then. You will remain with us.
As for this night’s unfortunate incident and its unsavory cast of players, we’ll put it all behind us, shall we? ”
Susanna nodded vigorously, grateful tears in her eyes. God willing, she prayed, she had seen the last of Keefer Dunn and his filthy, lusting kind.
“Is she going to be all right, Aunt Melicent?”
As Lady Redmayne turned in her chair, her silk skirt rustling stiffly, Susanna’s blurred gaze flew across the room to where a young girl with honey-gold curls peeked shyly at her from behind the door.
“Yes, Camille. Susanna is going to be just fine.” The baroness beckoned to the girl with a wave of her jeweled hand. “Come closer, my dear. There’s no reason to be so bashful.”
To Susanna, the girl walking gracefully toward the bed looked like a delicate china doll in her pastel-pink silk dress, slippers, and matching lace-trimmed cap.
And to her amazement as Camille drew closer, Susanna found herself staring into a pair of deep green eyes that were remarkably like her own.
“Camille, meet Susanna Guthrie. When she’s ready, Susanna shall be your new personal maid.”
Camille rested her small white hands on the plush wine-colored velvet back of her great-aunt’s chair. “Hello.”
“‘Tis pleased I am t’ meet ye, miss.”
“Camille has been living with me since she was three years old. Her father, James Cary, sent her here to England for her education, and rightly so.” Lady Redmayne sniffed in disgust. “He lives in the uncivilized wilds of Tidewater Virginia. Vile, barbarous, unhealthy place. “
“The American colony?” Susanna asked, her curiosity piqued.
She had often overheard sailors and merchants telling fascinating stories about America.
Stories about red-skinned people who wore feathers and beads in their hair and adorned their bodies with paint.
Fearless fur trappers who disappeared into the wilderness only to return months later with hundreds of glistening pelts.
And tale after tale about the amazing richness of the land, and all it had to offer England.
Camille nodded solemnly, then, still half-hiding behind the chair, she pointed to Susanna’s puffy, bruised forehead. “Does it hurt very much?”
Susanna shrugged. “Only a little.” In truth, it scarcely seemed to hurt at all anymore.
Camille looked relieved, and offered a timid smile.
Susanna smiled back, convinced she was, indeed, in the company of angels.