Chapter 1 #2
“Shhh, you know it’s true. And the last time anyone saw me in Virginia, I was only three years old.
Papa’s last visit”—her voice caught and she composed herself before continuing—“his last visit to England was two years ago. If he has described me to anyone since then, he could have been describing you as well.”
“My temperament falls quite short of your sweet and gentle nature,” Susanna said with wry self-deprecation. “In that respect, we’re no more alike than night and day. Someone would surely guess that I was an impostor.”
Camille gave a very small laugh, which sounded more like a congested rattle.
“You’d manage, Susanna, I’m sure of it. I always wanted to be more like you, so clever and headstrong, and now, in a sense, I’ll have my chance.
How I always admired the way you filled that great, somber house with your laughter and drove Aunt Melicent to distraction with your antics.
Remember the time you invited all the village children to Sunday supper, and the time you collected that jar of spiders and emptied them out on Mistress Plumb’s desk after she scolded me during a lesson—”
“Or when I convinced you to climb out onto the roof with me so we could see the stars better, giving Lady Redmayne the scare of her life,” Susanna broke in, recalling the stern dressing-down they had both received, once safely back inside Camille’s bedchamber.
“Aye, I’m sure there were many times she wished she had left me in London’s slums.”
“That’s not true, Susanna, and you know it.
She was very fond of you. She always hoped that some of your joie de vivre would chase away my shyness, and perhaps it did, a little.
You faced such adversity as a child, yet your spirit remained undaunted.
I couldn’t help but be encouraged and inspired.
” Camille’s expression grew pensive. “Even so, I don’t think Aunt Melicent ever accepted the fact that I’d never be the belle of the Cotswolds.
After she spent so much time teaching me to be a lady, I truly disappointed her when I proved to be such a timid homebody.
I got to be quite good at avoiding all those dreadful balls and card parties, didn’t I? ”
“Yes,” Susanna agreed, still hoping to convince Camille of the absurdity of her plan, “but Lady Redmayne didn’t always take no for an answer. You had a few social acquaintances in Fairford. In Gloucestershire, for that matter. What makes you think none of them will ever travel to the colonies?”
“And trade their comfortable country lives for a dangerous sea voyage and the unknown wilds of America? If any of my acquaintances possessed a daring streak, I’m sure Aunt Melicent would quickly persuade them from their folly with her talk of red savages, mysterious dread diseases, and the terrors of ocean travel.
No, the only person who could have hindered my plan was dear Captain Keyes… and he’s dead—”
Strangling on the last word, Camille looked truly frightened. She clutched Susanna’s hands as if she would never let them go and added in a tremulous voice, “I almost wish Aunt Melicent had convinced me to stay in England. I—I’m not very brave, Susanna.”
Swallowing the sudden hard lump in her throat, Susanna had to fight back helpless tears.
Don’t let your fear show, Susanna Jane, she chided herself. Camille needed her comfort and courage, not doubt and weakness. She would have to be brave enough for the both of them!
“Everything is going to be fine,” Susanna said with conviction, truly believing it. “You’ll see. I promise.”
Easing her hands from Camille’s weakening grasp, Susanna busied herself with changing the cloth on her mistress’s forehead, which felt much warmer than it had that morning.
Camille looked so weary, the dark smudges beneath her eyes more sharply drawn.
It was clear their lengthy discussion had taxed her strength.
“Camille, you must rest. We’ve talked enough for now.”
“I will, but only after you swear, Susanna. Swear that you’ll go to Virginia in my place if anything happens to me. Please. It would mean so much to me to know…”
Susanna met Camille’s desperate eyes and relented, if only to humor her so that she might get some sleep.
“Very well. I swear it. Now I don’t want to hear any more talk of dying. Are we agreed?”
Camille’s thin shoulders slumped back upon the pillows in relief, and a gentle smile curved her lips. “Agreed.”
Susanna sat numbly in her chair, staring at the narrow bed, Camille’s bed, which looked so huge in its emptiness.
For the past week she had been unable to bring herself to sleep in it, as if by doing so she would commit some sacrilege or gross act of disrespect.
Instead, heartbroken, she had slept upon her cot against the opposite wall, telling herself each night before she snuffed the lamp that Camille would be in that bed when she awoke in the morning, and everything would be as it had been before.
Of course in the morning the bed would still be empty, and she must reconcile herself to the fact that Camille would never come back.
The killing fever had claimed her after all.
Death had come like a silent thief one beautiful, sunny afternoon when Susanna had been convinced Camille was getting better.
Her cough had lessened, her skin had been cool to the touch; even her pale cheeks had held two rosy spots of color.
Yet Camille must have sensed that the thief was in their cabin, for her last words were a poignant, whispered good-bye.
“Remember, Susanna…you swore. When you get to Virginia, marry wisely, as I would have done, and live happily. Please…don’t forget me.”
The remainder of that day was an awful blur in Susanna’s memory.
Her only vivid recollections were the unsettling exchange of her dress and apron for one of Camille’s simpler gowns, the excellent fit being no surprise since they were virtually the same size; then later, Camille’s hasty burial at sea.
Rather, Susanna Guthrie’s burial at sea, for so it had been recorded in the ship’s records.
In her grief, some small part of herself had been rational enough to identify herself as Camille Cary when she had gone to report the death, the deceased being her unfortunate waiting-maid, Susanna.
No one had asked questions. Camille had been such a recluse that few people aboard ship except Captain Keyes had ever seen her.
Thus Susanna had fulfilled her sworn promise and her dearest friend’s dying wish. There would be no going back.
Susanna sighed heavily, her gaze dropping to her folded hands in her lap.
They were idle, purposeless hands now that she no longer had Camille to wait upon, fine gowns to be laid out and arranged, hair to be dressed, pillows to be fluffed, or tea to be poured and served.
She didn’t know quite what to do with herself.
As she wondered for the hundredth time what her life would be like when she reached Virginia, doubts crowded in upon her.
How could she, a waiting-maid, former beggar and pickpocket, possibly act the part of a real lady?
It was true that through her seven years of service to Camille her speech and manners had become proper.
She had been taught to read, write, and do some arithmetic by Camille’s staid governess, Mistress Plumb.
Yet she lacked any musical talent whatsoever and was all thumbs at needlework—besides hating it anyway!
—and those were two prerequisites for refined ladies of quality.
She hadn’t been trained to be a “decoration for society” like Camille, although they had used to play that they were both grand ladies until Lady Redmayne had caught them and lectured Susanna severely on her correct place in life.
What was even worse, she knew absolutely nothing about tobacco!
How could she, a bloody waiting-maid, run a huge plantation?
She was a fool to have sworn to enact this insane masquerade!
Surely she could have been more forceful in persuading Camille that it was sheer folly to even think such a plan could work—
Susanna started at the sharp rap on the door and fairly flew out of the chair.
“Who—who is it?”
“Captain’s mate, Miss Cary. I’ve been goin’ ‘round to the passengers to tell ye that we’ve sighted land. We should make Yorktown by tomorrow mornin’ if the winds hold up. God be praised, I’d say! A good ev’ning to ye.”
Land, Susanna thought, pacing the cabin before retaking her seat rather shakily. Soon her lifelong masquerade would begin. Could she manage it?
All she had to do was remember the fervent plea in Camille’s eyes to have her answer.
“What the devil’s the matter with you, Susanna Jane?
” she suddenly chided herself aloud, slamming the flat of her palm down so hard upon a side table that her skin stung.
“You’ve never been one to shrink from anything life handed you!
Why don’t you just accept your good fortune and do the name of Cary proud? ”
Aye, and so she would, Susanna vowed, feeling more like her normal optimistic self than she had since Camille’s death.
Preserving Briarwood was the least she could do for a dear friend who had played a part in rescuing her years ago from an abusive, drunken father and a miserable life of prostitution.
Why, she owed it to Camille! What better way to thank her for the happiness she had known in Fairford, the sense of belonging, the security and comfort, and most of all, their friendship?
Perhaps this new life would even help her distance herself from her bitter childhood memories and the terrible nightmares that still plagued her; nightmares that caused her to wake in a sweat, sometimes screaming, and her flesh on fire from a phantom lashing that seemed terrifyingly real.