Deborah smiled to herself as she walked around the house. That cat would keep the good Colonel busy stroking her. In addition, the house was going to get quite full, what with the Kershaws in residence. This was a fine time to make the case for her leaving.
Her smile faded. Why did the prospect depress her?
**
In the infirmary, Deborah ground some dried comfrey into powder. It was destined for poultices to help heal the bruises, sores, and fractures that the cold weather and icy ground guaranteed.
Dinner was going to be something to be endured. To escape would be tantamount to holding up a white flag, she thought. To attend would be walking into the lioness’s den. Sarah and Rose Kershaw would be there, but they had access to appropriate gowns for the occasion. Deborah’s new dress was only half finished and not really suitable, anyway. All her lovely dresses that would have been perfect for the occasion were almost four hundred miles to the north. Going to dinner, and it was going to be a formal dinner, in the only clothes she had was unthinkable. The gentle Lady Claudia would make mincemeat out of her.
She ground the comfrey harder with the force of her chagrin.
“Hey, if you’re not careful, bits of the mortar stone will make an interesting addition to whatever you’re making.” Sarah poked her head around the door.
“Um, sorry. I try to take out my spleen on inanimate objects. They don’t yell so loudly when you beat on them.”
Sarah came into the still room, folded her arms, and cocked her head. “Met the newest guests, have we?”
Deborah just growled.
“I’d say that was an adequate summation of the situation. Rose and I are now sharing a room. I love that child, but she does snore. And poor Major Smythe now has the privilege of sleeping in the servants’ quarters.” At Deborah’s questioning glance, she added, “Sir Oliver requires a private room, or is it Lady Claudia who does?”
Deborah raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I hope to use that as a little extra incentive behind my request to get out of here. I’m going to tell the Colonel that I just have to go after Adam. In reality, I’ll have to chase him all the way back to Charlotte.”
Sarah snickered. “I bet you will.” She pursed her lips, ducked her chin, and stared up at the younger woman. “That should make you happy.”
Deborah put down the pestle and straightened her shoulders. “Yes, but that still leaves dinner tonight. I suspect you heard about my little altercation with Lady Claudia?”
“Rogers,” Sarah nodded, “said you acquitted yourself rather admirably.”
“Well, after that, I have to go to dinner, if nothing else, to prove that I’m not a servant. The problem is that this,” she looked down and spread her skirts, “is all I have.”
Sarah, understanding the uniquely female dilemma, stroked her chin and looked Deborah over with an experienced eye. “I think we can do something about that. Wash your hands and come with me.”
**
Deborah felt a little more pleased with the world than she had just a few short hours previously. Sarah had been more than generous with her clothes and accessories. Deborah could sit at table this evening and hold her head up high.
She wanted to check on an infusion she was preparing in the infirmary, so she grabbed her cloak. As she walked down the hall to the front door, Marshall strode around the corner from the parlor and stopped abruptly.
“Ah, just the person I wanted to see!” He sounded much too pleased with himself for Deborah’s taste. “I have some time on my hands, and I thought you’d like to take a stroll around the camp. It’s a fine day, if a little chilly, so it’s good that you have your cloak.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I must check on something in the infirmary.”
“Always business, eh? Well…” He drew out the word and pursed his lips, but his eyes danced. “I would like to do an inspection of the general health of the troops. So, without further ado, let’s…”
“La, Kit,” came from the top of the stairs. “I’m sure I’ve been frantic to see you!”
Deborah watched Marshall squeeze his eyes shut. His shoulders slumped, and he slowly turned around to greet the newcomer.
“Hello, Claudia. I didn’t know you were here.”
The lady in question waited to answer until she reached the bottom of the stairs. She rushed toward Marshall in a flurry of powder, crinoline, and perfume. Deborah stepped out of the way.
“Where else would I be? You’re here. We arrived this morning. This place is such a horror, I’m sure I’m amazed that you can stand it.” She never glanced at Deborah. “I’ve been in such a panic to see you again.”
With that, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.
Deborah waited for her to finish. And she waited. And she waited. She couldn’t see to shove a hatpin between the two of them. Lady Claudia’s mouth twisted and opened and slithered. Her hands framed his face as she devoured him. Deborah had been raised in an affectionate household, but not that affectionate.
Embarrassment and irritation warred in Deborah’s mind. She did agree on one thing, though. She left.
**
Marshall nodded at her when Deborah came down in her borrowed splendor. She knew she looked her best, but he offered no compliment on her appearance or surprise at her garments’ sudden appearance. Lt. Bradley was not so niggardly.
“I must say, ma’am, you’re looking splendidly this evening. That gown is most fetching on you.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. You are most kind.”
At that moment, Lady Claudia turned her head from her conversation with Marshall. Her gaze swept down to Deborah’s toes and away. Deborah had made her point. She was not a servant.
“La, Kit, I’m sure you lead the most fascinating life,” Lady Claudia looked up at him through her lashes and smiled that oh-so intimate smile of hers that made Deborah want to slap it off the good lady’s face.
**
The diners were well into the fish of this twelve remove dinner, in contrast to the usual, more abbreviated, meal to which the eclectic diners at Kershaw House’s table were accustomed. The formal dining room blazed with candles whose light sparkled in the polish of the long table and the side boards. The candlelight glinted in the gleaming gold buttons of the officers’ dress uniforms and the large diamond earrings that Lady Claudia frequently fondled. Deborah noticed the satisfied cat smile of the lady and the way the colonel’s eyes followed the movement earlier in the evening. Everything she observed confirmed Sgt. Thomson’s analysis of the situation.
That depressed her to no end.
Lady Claudia flirted shamelessly with Marshall while he leaned back in his chair with a suggestion of a smile, sipped his wine, and lapped up the attention. Deborah noticed that Sir Oliver watched the scene from the other end of the table, his expression benign. Merciful heavens, she thought, he actually approves of his wife practically seducing the colonel in the middle of the dining room! She knew London Manners were different from those in the colonies, but this was outrageous.
She glanced across the table at Sarah. Discretely elegant, Sarah’s forest green Watteau sacque didn’t show a fraction of the décolleté of Lady Claudia’s crimson finery, but still stood in the height of fashion. Deborah was profoundly grateful to Sarah and Rose for the loan, and quick alteration, of a royal blue gown with a silver embroidered stomacher.
Sarah caught her eye, gave an infinitesimal nod towards the head of the table and a quick roll of her eyes. Deborah smiled her agreement.
**
Kit twirled his wine glass as he surveyed the table and listened with half an ear to Claudia do everything but proposition him in public. He wished he could ignore her completely, but common sense prevailed over that course of action. He remembered a scene or two that she had caused and prayed most devoutly that he would be nowhere near when the next one occurred. His eyebrow lifted as he contemplated the chances he would be able to avoid the conflagration.
She had only b
een here a few hours and already Claudia was beginning to bore him. It just didn’t make sense, he thought. She was just as beautiful as ever. He glanced over at her as she gleefully prattled on about the social downfall of the luscious Mistress Elizabeth Loring, when her protector, General Sir William Howe, was sent back to England under a cloud. Kit didn’t give a tinker’s damn about Mistress Loring, and Howe was a fool who got less than what he deserved, but Kit nodded encouragement to Claudia as she embellished the hurtful little tale.
God’s back teeth, would that woman never shut up? She was truly a diamond of the first water. He had never questioned his attraction. It was only in the last few hours that Kit realized that they had spent very little time talking when they weren’t in a social situation. Perhaps, Kit mused as he surveyed her tall, elaborate hairstyle, that was why he hadn’t noticed that she had much more hair than wit. His own poor taste appalled him. He was rapidly coming to appreciate women who…
“Colonel, I say,” Lt. Bradley began, “Mistress Kershaw and I were just discussing the problems of supplying the main house here. We were wondering if there were any actions planned that would change the number of people to deal with here.”
Kit thankfully withdrew his attention from Lady Claudia. “Perhaps, if Harvey down there at the end of the table can stop flirting with the lovely Mistress Rose, we’d be able to mount one.”
He didn’t know what evil genius urged him to continue. “By the by, Mistress Rose, you are looking most fetching tonight. If I were seated at that end of the table that young pup would have some competition.”
The young lady blushed most prettily, Harvey, seated next down from Deborah, paled at the implied challenge from the senior male. Claudia, Kit saw from the corner of his eye, looked like she was going to have an apoplexy. Far more important was the reaction of the young lady in blue next to Harvey. Etiquette decreed that he not converse directly with someone so far away, but her startled first response, followed by an amused grin, was most gratifying.
“At ease, Mr. Harvey, I was just pulling your coat tails. You will be staying here and may flirt with Mistress Rose at your leisure. But, to answer your question, Bradley, I’ll be taking a couple of companies out towards the Congaree Swamp in a few days. We have news that Francis Marion is making mischief near there, damn his eyes.”
“Oh no, Kit, I’m sure you can’t leave now. I just got here.” Lady Claudia laid a hand across his arm as if to prevent his departure.
“Duty calls, my dear.” He lifted the small, white hand to his lips. As his mouth brushed her fingertips, he looked over them and down the table. Deborah had suddenly found her food very engrossing. Her inattention irritated him. He turned back to Claudia.
**
Rogers placed the fine china dish of syllabub before Rose. Deborah watched her smile up at the servant.
“Oh, Rogers, you know this is my favorite!”
“Just so, Mistress Rose.”
Deborah smiled at the exchange. Rose, she thought, thinks of him as an indulgent uncle and he revels…
“Ugh, syllabub! How disgusting! Take it away and bring me something else. Some fruit.”
Deborah only closed her eyes at the complaints from the other end of the table. When she opened them, she saw Sir Oliver happily accepting a dish of the confection. She wondered if her expression must have been disapproving when he spoke up, but he was leaning toward Rose.
“I realize my dear Lady Claudia is not partial to sweet deserts, but I have a definite weakness for them.” He patted his ample stomach and then reached for his spoon. Deborah had already decided that it would be hard not to like the affable, if somewhat silly, Sir Oliver. His kindness to Rose only reinforced that feeling.
Rose looked over at him, smiling shyly. “I think you’ll like this. Cook has an exceptionally light hand with the macaroons, and her Madera cream has just the right touch of lemon.”
From the other end of the table, Lady Claudia declared, “I’m sure that child has the manners of a barbarian. Her taste is abominable, both in her food and her clothes. I’m surprised you, Kit, of all people, would allow such a schoolgirl at your table.”
In-drawn breaths and outright gasps hissed around the table. Rose curled up into herself and said nothing.
“Lady Claudia!” Lt. Bradley exclaimed. Horrified, he gaped at her for a moment, but finally shook his head, closed his mouth firmly, and returned to his syllabub.
Mistress Kershaw had no such compunctions. “What do you think you are about, madam? People of quality do not sit down at table and proceed to insult members of the family, or anyone else present! This is my house and my table, despite the presence of His Majesty’s officers; I do not permit such ill-bred remarks here.”
“Who are you to lecture me,” Lady Claudia drawled, “you colonial nobody? Your husband is a known rebel, and the crown for treason has rightfully escheated your house. You have no rights and no authority here. You have no title, and you certainly do not have the status to question my judgments.”
“You…” There was little Sarah could say since at least part of Lady Claudia’s assertions were correct.
“Lady Claudia, if I might explain?” Deborah interrupted in her pedantic best. “Sarah, Mistress Kershaw, speaks from a different perspective than you, I fear. You both refer to the title ‘Lady,’ but I’m afraid you are working with vastly dissimilar definitions of the term.”
The pedantic tone continued, “You, madam, refer to the condition into which you are born into, or marry, into. You feel this accident of birth or success in marriage entitles you to more than the average share of respect and deference and…well, everything.”
She heard a snicker somewhere, but ignored it. Lady Claudia’s face was grim.
“Now here, in the colonies, we don’t see a lot of titled ladies, so we made up our own definition of the word. To us, a lady is someone who is unfailingly polite, kind, and helpful. Mistress Martha Washington is a true lady. Samuel Adam’s wife, Abigail, is a lady, a bit outspoken, but kind none the less. Mistress Kershaw is also a lady.”
She paused, and Lady Claudia’s expression grew black. “You, on the other hand, have a tendency to kick innocent dogs, give orders to those you assume are you inferiors, and insult young women. You, unfortunately, are not considered a lady here.”
“You whore,” Lady Claudia hissed. She grabbed her water goblet and threw it at Deborah. Lt. Harvey, young and quick, reached across Deborah to bat the glass away.
Fine crystal shattered on the floor. When the sound died, silence reigned.
“Claudia,” Col. Marshall said quietly, “I think you might be more comfortable if you retired.”
Claudia glared at him, too, but could not refuse. She shoved her chair back before a servant could assist her, and it fell. Sir Oliver hurried after her, muttering soothing things. After she stormed out, the servant picked up the chair. He was too well-trained to even gape at the scene. No one spoke for half a minute.
Finally Marshall grimaced and turned to Sarah. “My apologies.” He nodded at Rose, Sarah, and finally Deborah.
Sarah replied, “Thank you, sir, but there is no fault to you so no apologies are necessary from you. I might note, however, that the addition of Lady Claudia to the household is most unsettling. I’m already receiving complaints from the servants’ hall.”
“I regret that relieving you of her presence is not as easy as it might be. Her husband is here on official business as a major supplier for His Majesty’s army. It might be easier and more comfortable for you and your daughter to return to Camden for awhile.”
“I have no wish to expose my daughter to the murderer in that city.”
“If you go outside the house only with a companion, you should be perfectly safe.”
Sarah looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, given the choices, I think that would be best. Deborah can come with us, too.”
Deborah smiled at Sarah.
“No, Mistress Morgan remains here.”
Deborah turned to him, open mouthed.
“She has duties here and I will see to her protection.”
Deborah exploded. “You can’t possibly protect me from that…that woman twenty-four hours a day. You know that.”
“Nevertheless, you stay.”
“Colonel, this is…”
“No.”
Conversation subsided, and the party broke up shortly. No one seemed interested in the usual postprandial activities.
Stiff-backed, Deborah moved to leave.
**
“Mistress Morgan,” Col. Marshall murmured, as he stood with his hand on the wooden chair back. “One of the patrols reported a sighting of a man fitting your brother’s description riding a horse looking like mine. He was headed north on the post road a few days ago. I think we can safely say that for all his deficiencies, your brother knows the way home.”
Deborah opened her mouth and then turned without saying a word. Her brain whirled. Adam? No, the patrol probably saw Isaac. It was good that he’d successfully escaped, but Marshall had just knocked one of the legs out of her argument for escape.
“Lady Claudia kicked a dog?”
She grimaced and looked back at him. “Yes, she kicked Scamp this morning when they arrived. Sgt. Thomson was there, ask him,” she added defensively.
“Oh, I don’t doubt your word. Not at all.”
Deborah opened her mouth to retort, but he was looking thoughtfully at Lady Claudia’s chair and rubbing his finger over the back of his chair. She left quietly, knowing another head on the chimera of her problems had appeared.
Chapter 10
At breakfast, Rogers told Deborah that Sarah and Rose were preparing to go back to Camden. She felt what little congeniality she’d found in the midst of a British camp evaporate.
Even Scamp’s antics couldn’t lift her spirits as she trudged up to the room Sarah shared with Rose.The room definitely belonged to a female, which explained why the officers avoided it. The bed’s canopy was a beribboned pink; the fluffy down comforter’s duvet was pink; the curtains were pink. The dressing table skirt was pink.