Master's Match Read online

  Naomi didn’t have to think long. Becca had told the story often. “Ya mean that’s the same young man what paid ya so much fer that box of lucifers?”

  Becca nodded.

  “That’s gotta be the Lord’s doin’. Why else would ya land in his house of all places?”

  The notion had occurred to Becca. “I know it. Especially after I knocked on so many doors before that.” She sighed. “And now I feel sorry fer him. He’s got this awful woman chasin’ him.”

  “How do ya know she’s awful? Have ya met her?”

  “No. But he don’t paint a flatterin’ picture of her. Her name is Hazel, and the servants call her Witch Hazel behind her back.”

  Naomi giggled. She tilted her nose upward and took on an affected accent. “I suppose she talks very snooty.”

  Becca grinned in spite of herself but then turned serious. “I ain’t never met her, but I don’t imagine I’ll sound too educated against someone like her.”

  “True.” Naomi looked worried. “I don’t mean to hurt yer feelin’s, but ya ain’t no fine lady, and anybody breathin’ can tell soon as ya open yer mouth.”

  “Only me own sister could get away with an insult like that.” Becca scrunched her nose and rubbed her knuckles on Naomi’s back in a playful manner, a gesture the sisters had always shared.

  “Ya know I speak the truth.” Naomi slapped at Becca’s knee with a strike that didn’t sting. “And I worry. You ain’t got no decent dresses, neither. He’s gonna be expectin’ ya to be a hostess sooner or later. How are ya plannin’ to fit in with all those society women?”

  Having concentrated on Nash, Becca hadn’t thought about his friends. Anxiety gripped her midsection. “I don’t know. Mebbe I’m not supposed to fit in but be meself.”

  “Ye’ll be laughed out o’ Providence.”

  “Mebbe not. The Lord can perform miracles.” A feeling of nervousness struck, and Becca felt she needed consolation and comfort. “How’s about we ask now?” Becca took her sister’s hands, and they prayed.

  Father entered. “What you two girls prayin’ about?” As usual, he hadn’t bothered to knock.

  “Nothin’.” Naomi dropped her sister’s hands, crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes at her father.

  “Becca will tell me. Won’t ya, girl?” His voice took on a tone that told her she’d feel the sting of his belt on her legs if she didn’t.

  She swallowed. “I got a job.”

  “What is it? A nanny like ya planned?”

  “No, sir. A maid.”

  “Oh.” His voice deflated. “How much they payin’ you?”

  Temptation to tell him a dollar fifty knocked on her brain, but she shook it aside. “Two dollars a week plus room and board.”

  “Humph.” He wagged his finger at her. “You be sure to bring me that money every week.”

  A realization occurred to Becca. “I might not be able to.”

  “And why not?” His voice held a challenge.

  Naomi shook her head, warning her not to reveal everything yet. But considering Father’s determination to squeeze her salary from her, telling all seemed to be the only option. “I might not be a maid long. I—I might not even be a maid now. The master—Nash Abercrombie—said he wants to marry me.”

  Father’s laughter filled the room so much the thin walls seemed to shake. “You? You, girl? What are they feedin’ ya up on top of that hill? Whiskey? If they are, must be mighty good. Bring me some next time ya come home, eh?”

  Becca’s face warmed in humiliation, but she couldn’t deny the story sounded preposterous. “I’m doin’ him a favor, he says. He wants to get rid of a fortune seeker.”

  Father’s mouth slackened before he let out a boisterous chortle. “Does he now? Is he outta his head? Ye’re nothin’ but a Hanham. What makes him think ya don’t want his fortune, too?”

  Becca thought for a moment. How did he know, indeed? Perhaps because she never dreamed of any fortune and he realized that. Besides, he asked her to marry him when such a proposal never entered her mind. She remembered his references to her spirit. “He knows I’m a woman of faith.”

  “That may be, but I’ll wager he’ll drop ya like a hot potato as soon as he gets rid of this fortune seeker he’s talkin’ about.” He nodded, rubbing his chin. “At least ya can take advantage of the situation. Collect as many trinkets as ya can before he gets tired o’ ya. Tell him ya want big diamonds and rubies.”

  Diamonds and rubies? The thought hadn’t entered her head. She never ventured where people expected women to wear fine jewels. On the contrary, in her part of town sparkling stones would only attract thieves and thugs.

  Disgust filled her being. Leave it to Father to suggest she collect as many diamonds and rubies as possible to secure her future—and his supply of ale. Still, his admonitions made her feel uneasy. Father was a man of the world and knew the ways of men. What if his warnings were true? What if Nash Abercrombie left her high and dry as soon as Hazel Caldwell was out of sight? The idea of trinkets didn’t comfort her, but made her feel like a woman for hire. “I don’t think I’ll accept his proposal.”

  “That might be a good idea,” Naomi said.

  “Mind yer own business, Naomi.” Scowling, Father crossed his arms and planted his feet on the floor. “I’ve heard of that Abercrombie family. They got plenty o’ money. Ya better accept that offer if ya know what’s good fer ya.”

  Becca didn’t have to ask what that meant. If she didn’t obey, Father was sure to throw her out of the house for good. And though the noisy, crowded rooms weren’t much, her home did offer shelter and the love of her mother and siblings. God commanded her to honor her parents, so she had to do as her father insisted. Too bad the Bible never promised all parents would look out for the best interests of their children above their own.

  She prayed for the courage to face whatever her future held.

  Five

  The following day Nash returned home early from the office for afternoon tea. Not that he had accomplished much at work anyway. All he could think about was his proposal of marriage and what answer Becca might give him.

  Sitting fitfully in the chair in his study, he tried to read the paper, but a story on another bank robbery didn’t hold his interest. His thoughts wandered to matters of immediate concern.

  Nash never envisioned that God would send the match girl from all those years before who had touched his heart. Perhaps he’d be a laughingstock for pursuing a poverty-stricken woman of low station. But simple clothing couldn’t hide a sweet spirit. To Nash, that was much more valuable than an important family name. A verse from the twenty-seventh chapter of Proverbs popped into his head. “A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike.” Of course the author didn’t speak of Hazel, but the verse described her. He smiled in spite of himself.

  Ah, Becca. Such a contrast. He prayed she would trust him enough to move forward with his proposal. If she did, he was determined she would never be sorry.

  Harrod entered. “I am confirming that you still desire high tea for two to be served at five in the front parlor, sir.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He cleared his throat but didn’t look Nash in the face. “I am reluctant to mention this, but the new scullery maid did not report for work this morning. Under ordinary conditions, I would not make mention of this, but in light of her clumsiness yesterday, I felt I must. Perhaps she is embarrassed by your generosity of spirit and didn’t feel worthy to continue working here. I can only speculate.”

  Since he’d never thought of Becca as a scullery maid, Nash had forgotten to let Harrod know about the previous night’s events. “I’m so sorry, Harrod. I should have told you.” He paused and studied his butler. Harrod stood erect with an expression of anticipation before Nash. “I have asked someone to marry me.”

  Harrod didn’t smile. “Have you confirmed your engagement to Miss Caldwell?”

  “No. I have proposed marriage to s
omeone else.”

  “Indeed?” Harrod’s voice rose with happiness. “If I may be so bold, do tell me about this lucky woman. I assume you met her during your trip abroad. Was it a shipboard romance, perhaps?” His eyes took on a worried light. “Those can be tricky, but if she’s from a prestigious family, you may have been right to throw caution to the wind.”

  “Oh, I threw caution to the wind. But not aboard ship.”

  Harrod let a breath escape. “I must say, I am relieved you did not lose your head while crossing the Atlantic. Miss Caldwell is digging for gold, but at least we know she comes from a good family. I have heard too many stories about the riffraff who travel on ships and trains to pose as perfectly respectable people in hopes of catching a prize such as yourself. A man in your position cannot be too cautious.”

  “Your words are wise, and so I’m sure you’ll be disappointed by my choice.” He paused. “You see, there is a reason why Becca Hanham did not report for work today. Instead she is my guest for afternoon tea.”

  “Oh.” The unflappable Harrod seemed disconcerted. “I see. Then I must make haste to find another scullery maid.”

  “Not yet. She has a question to answer for me first.” He paused. “You see, I asked Becca Hanham to marry me.”

  Harrod couldn’t have looked any more shocked if a tempest had struck without warning and scuttled him. “But, she is a—a scullery maid.”

  “Yes, I realize it’s shocking. I’m a bit shocked myself. But I don’t regret asking her.” His voice grew stronger with determination.

  “Sir, I am loath to discourage you, but. . .” He let out a slight cough. “Would you feel at ease with her in the company of your friends? Or would she?”

  “I’ve thought of that. Certainly I don’t want to subject her to ridicule. That’s why, if she does accept my proposal, I’ll work with her to be sure she looks and acts highborn before I open my home for a dinner party.”

  “If I may say so, you have much work ahead of you.”

  “You mean to say we have much work ahead of us. I expect you to help, you know.”

  Harrod sighed in the manner of an adult indulging a child. “Why did I sense you might say that? But for you, I shall comply. Anything to rid us of the prospect of Miss Caldwell.”

  “How many of the other servants know we hired Miss Hanham as a scullery maid?”

  Harrod thought for a moment. “Other than myself, Cook and the downstairs maid. I don’t believe she had time to meet anyone else.”

  “Good. I need all the servants to support me and not make issue of Miss Hanham’s humble origins. While I will never deny her background if asked, there is no need to subject her to more gossip than necessary.”

  “I don’t believe you’ll be able to shield her forever. People will find out one way or another.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But once they grow to love Miss Hanham for her sweet spirit, her station won’t matter.”

  Harrod’s mouth twisted, a sure sign he didn’t agree. Nash ignored the gesture. He only wanted to think of how good he could make life for Becca.

  ❧

  Becca entered the Abercrombie residence through the back door. The appetizing scent of baking bread greeted her.

  Cook spied her and stopped whisking a small green bowl containing raw eggs. “I see ya finally decided to show up fer work. Harrod told me the master knows all about it and you had the mornin’ off.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Becca regarded dirty pots and pans that awaited washing.

  “Ye’re lookin’ pretty today.” She sniffed the air, her nostrils flailing in and out. “And I do believe I smell perfume.” She eyed her charge. “Ye’re lookin’ and smellin’ much too fancy fer a scullery maid.”

  Becca had dressed her best—meaning in the same dress she wore yesterday. Mother had allowed her to borrow a few precious drops of lavender-scented toilette water that Becca and her siblings saved up to buy for her as a Christmas gift just a month ago. Mother had also arranged Becca’s dark hair in a flattering uplifted fashion with ringlets framing both sides of her cheeks. Before she left, Mother kissed her good-bye and gave her a tight hug. Despite the mountains of work brought about by so many siblings, Becca would miss being with her family every day.

  For the first time since her birthday the previous autumn, she felt lovely. Lovely enough to face Nash and give him her answer.

  Cook persisted. “Why’d ya fix yer hair up like that?”

  “Mother styled it,” she responded, stalling for time. Cook stared at her, so she could see there was no way out of offering a direct response. “I—I don’t reckon you’d know. Mr. Abercrombie proposed marriage to me, and I’m here to give him an answer.”

  She dropped her fork in the bowl. “Marriage! No!” A hearty laugh filled the kitchen. “I didn’t take ya for a lazy daydreamer, but that’s what ya are, sure enough.”

  Becca paused as she tried not to be offended. Perhaps to Cook’s eyes she did seem lazy and a dreamer. “No, ma’am. I’m not lazy, and I’m not a daydreamer. I can’t believe it, either. But it’s true.” Becca filled her in on the details.

  “That is a surprise, girlie. I didn’t think ye’d ever be the master’s match.” She regarded her with a discerning eye. “Ye’re mighty pretty, though, and I think ye’d be even prettier once he gets ye into better clothes.”

  Becca tried not to cringe.

  “Any plan to get rid of Witch Hazel is a good plan in my book. She’d be a misery to work fer, she would. She tries to take over whenever she comes here as it is. But ye—now ye would understand the trials of a servant ’cause ye’re a hard worker from what I seen.” Cook lifted both hands in surrender. “Ah, but work! Just look at what ya done to me. Just one day out and already I’m stuck without a scullery maid.”

  “I’m sorry.” She realized she meant it.

  Cook laughed once more. “Ye’d be crazy to be sorry.” She resumed whisking the eggs, her face brightening. “I’ll have to ask me brother’s daughter. Didn’t think o’ her till now.”

  Harrod entered. “Cook, must you speak at the top of your lungs?” He spotted Becca and his demeanor changed. “Oh, Miss Hanham. What are you doing here in the kitchen?”

  “I–I’m still a scullery maid until I speak with Mr. Abercrombie, ain’t I?”

  He looked taken aback. “I don’t suppose you have been dismissed.” He cut his glance to Cook.

  “She told me about the proposal. Since she works in the kitchen with me, I have a right to know.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Now I ain’t got a scullery maid.”

  “We’ll discuss that later. Come along, please, Miss Hanham, and if you plan to accept Mr. Abercrombie’s proposal, remember that you are not to enter through the back door, but the front.” He studied her. “Not that I ever expect you to enter alone again in any event.”

  The front door! She thought about the first door she had knocked on and how rude the butler had been. She’d love to knock on that front door today. Just as quickly, she put away such an indulgent thought. More important matters—and a much more important man—awaited.

  “Mr. Abercrombie said he will meet you in the front parlor.” Harrod led her to a room warm in temperature and inviting in atmosphere. Even a cursory examination told her that even though the decor all over the house seemed grand, the finest pieces had been saved for the best room. Chairs fashioned of carved wood and a stuffed sofa draped in silk seemed so luxurious, she feared she shouldn’t sit at all, though the foot-and-claw leg designs seemed substantial.

  Before she chose a seat, her gaze caught a set of portraits above the sofa. The man and woman portrayed must have been Nash’s parents. If so, Nash looked just like his father, with big brown eyes and a kind but manly face. His slim-figured mother was portrayed in the high style of her time, but the expression on her lovely face didn’t show the least bit of arrogance or entitlement. They must have passed on their graciousness of spirit to their son so that he didn’t mind taking a chance on her
, a mere servant girl.

  Nash’s voice sounded from behind her, catching her off guard. “Do you like those portraits?”

  She jumped a bit and turned toward him.

  “I’m sorry. Did I startle you? Forgive me.”

  Seeing him again brought back feelings of high excitement. Glad for a topic other than the answer she had to give him, she pounced upon it. “Yea, they’re beautiful. I got lost lookin’ at ’em.”

  “Those are my favorite depictions of my parents.” He joined her in viewing the portraits.

  “You mean there’s more?” The thought of spending a great sum of money to have one portrait painted was beyond her imagination, much less commissioning several.

  “Yes,” he responded. “There’s a set in the bedchamber they shared, painted later in their lives. And in the library is yet another portrait of the three of us when I was but a tiny babe. But this set is my favorite because the likenesses capture their happiness during the time they were a courting couple.” He took them in as though seeing them for the first time. “I can stare at these paintings and forget time, too. I wish you could have known my parents. I think they would have liked you very much.”

  The idea warmed her spirit. “Really? How come?” The question made her sound like a small child instead of the dignified woman she wanted to be. She tried not to wince at her own embarrassment.

  He didn’t seem to notice her discomfiture. “They wanted a Christian woman for me, and from the way you speak of your prayer life, I know you love our Savior. And you are beautiful in appearance.”

  Becca felt herself blush. She averted her gaze, taking sudden interest in the arrival of the promised afternoon tea. The maid set it on the low table that looked to be created for the purpose. As Becca and Nash sat in opposite chairs around the table, the maid poured rich reddish brown liquid into china cups. Becca inhaled the scent of the hot beverage, spiced as it was, with the luxury of a cinnamon stick protruding from each cup.