Page 33 of To Seduce a Stranger

She bowed her head and forced her knees to dip in a parting curtsy. “Very good. I shall set right to work.”

“You needn’t do this, Charlotte,” he said again.

For a moment, she could not muster a reply. “Anyone may see that the condition of Ravenswood pains you, Mr. Cary. I am happy to do what I can to help.”

It wasn’t precisely true. Frankly, she was no longer eager to explore the rest of the house. Would she find more rooms in the condition of that sitting room?

But even as she turned away, she knew she would do it. For however long she chose to stay at Ravenswood, she would need to find something here with which to occupy herself.

Something other than Edward Cary.

* * *

“G’ mornin’, missus.”

When Charlotte opened the door, a girl with lank, dark blond hair stood expectantly on the kitchen step, carrying a basket. “I’m Peg. Mr. Cary ordered these things yesterday. For the house.” Each piece of information was punctuated with a pause, as if the speaker hoped to prod Charlotte’s wayward memory. Only the last detail offered the necessary illumination, however.

“Ah, yes. The cleaning supplies.” Charlotte reached for the basket, but the girl, Peg, seemed determined to carry it inside herself. Her head swiveled to and fro, trying to take in every detail of her surroundings. She was no doubt expected to report back to those who had sent her on this mission.

The girl set her basket on the servants’ dining table and turned a full circle. “Lor’ bless us, missus.” Under Mari’s direction, every surface gleamed, and Charlotte could guess by the girl’s awestruck expression that the space must dwarf the kitchen in any other dwelling in Little Norbury.

“Thank you for bringing these things, Miss—?”

“Jus’ Peg, if you please. Though your Mr. Cary would have that it’s properly Margaret.” A skeptical laugh shook her narrow shoulders. “I ain’t got no other name. Folks call me Eakins, since it was the Widow Eakins what took me in. But I ain’t hers, neither. Ain’t nobody’s, an’ that’s a fact.”

“An orphan, are you?” The revelation put Charlotte in charity with the girl.

Peg shrugged. “If’n you mean t’ ask if me ma and pa are dead, can’t say. Someone left me at the poor house, and Widow Eakins needed a helpin’ hand at the Rose and Raven, so she took me up.”

“The Rose and Raven—that’s the pub, isn’t it? What do you do there?”

“Clean, mostly. Wait tables, on occasion. An’ take care o’ the pigs.”

“Oh.” Were the pigs actual swine or particularly disagreeable customers?

To hide her confusion, she turned her attention to Peg’s basket, which contained a round tin of beeswax and a glass bottle filled with turpentine, wrapped in a checked cloth to prevent them from knocking against one another in transit. Well, it would do to start. Absently, Charlotte set the two containers aside and began to fold the worn square of fabric.

A shadow fell across it as Peg backed up until she struck the edge of the table, jarring the items she had brought and nearly knocking them onto the floor. Charlotte looked up to see Mari entering through the kitchen door with a sandy-haired man she did not recognize. He carried his hat before him, filled to the brim with peeping chicks.

“Why, Mari. I didn’t hear you come in. Is this—?”

“Matthew Markham, ma’am. At your service.” His bow of greeting was slight and awkward, so as not to tumble the contents of his hat onto the floor.

“The pleasure is m—” Charlotte began.

But Peg gasped over her. “Lor’ bless us! It’s true!” Her gray eyes searched Mari’s face with open incredulity. “There really are black folks. I’ve seen pictures of ’em on those plaques,” she added in an explanatory whisper to Charlotte, as if she imagined Mari could not understand her words, “the ones again’ slavery—with the fellow all bundled up in chains. Mr. Toomey has one behind th’ till. But I never—”

“Peg Eakins.” Mr. Markham’s voice was firm, though he did not raise it. “Mind yourself.”

“No need to speak harshly to the girl, Mr. Markham. Her surprise is understandable.” Mari half smiled and lifted the upturned hat from his hands, then added in a quiet voice, “You would not like to have witnessed my reaction the first time I saw a white face.”

Her speech effectively cut short Matthew Markham’s scold. “What are you doing here, Peg?” he asked, more gently.

“Mr. Toomey asked me to deliver some things Mr. Cary wanted.”

“Ah. So Toomey’s back. I’ll tell Cary when I see him. He’ll be glad to hear it.”

While Mari filled a chipped saucer with water for the chicks to drink, Charlotte began lifting the yellow balls of fluff into a larger basket that could serve as a makeshift coop. “Thank you for the cleaning supplies, Peg,” she said when she was done, turning as she wiped her palms on her apron. The girl bobbed a curtsy and slipped out the door, one cautious, curious eye still on Mari.