Bound to Serve Read online

  Then, slamming the door of the wardrobe he turned his back again on the clothing and the memories that clung to their folds.

  ***

  Elspeth did not want to wear it. Clifford had said nothing as he’d handed the dress to her and walked away, leaving her to stare down at the garment that lay limp in her hands. He’d been right; this workaday dress was still finer than anything Elspeth had ever donned and in another circumstance she would have squealed with delight over the chance to wear something so fine, for she was – after all – just a girl.

  But she knew – could feel – the presence of the last person to fill this dress, to animate it. And Elspeth felt like a trespasser at the mere thought of putting the dress on. She stood there, holding it up in front of her before the looking glass and it felt like a sacrilege to put it on.

  “I won’t,” she said to herself. “I won’t do it.”

  But Elspeth knew even as she said the words that to refuse would to be to risk punishment. And she realized with a sudden surprise that she didn’t care. It would be impossible to please Clifford Harker who sought to contain and control her as he sought to contain and control his emotions.

  Tossing the dress on the bed, she went to her trunk and pulled out her best dress-the frock Harker had told her was not good enough for church. Hastily, she removed her work dress and donned the green one she’d chosen. And then, fastening her hair into a bun and checking her reflection, she went to the nursery and dressed the boys.

  “You’re coming to church with us?” Colin nearly bounced up and down with excitement when she told him.

  “Yes, now hold still,” Elspeth replied, laughing. “And we both must sit very, very still and be on our best behavior or else your father will be cross with us.”

  “I will,” the child chirped. “I promise.”

  “I’m going to hide a book in my coat,” Harry sulked. “Church is boring. The Reverend talks forever.”

  “Indeed you will not.” Elspeth turned to take the book Harry was holding away. “It’s only an hour or so. Surely you can sit quietly for so little a time.”

  But she knew that for a young child, an hour might as well be an eternity, and smiled in sympathy as she knelt down beside the lad and sighed.

  “Your father would think it rude if you didn’t at least pretend to listen,” he said. “So I shall give you a book no one can see.”

  “A book no one can see?’ Harry looked at Elspeth doubtfully, his expression a mirror of his father’s.

  “That’s right,” Elspeth said. “And do you know why no one can see it?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s in your head.”

  “That’s silly,” declared Harry.

  “Is it?” Elspeth asked. “I have the same copy inside my head. In fact, I can ready you the first line. Once upon a time there was an angry king who lived by the sea…”

  She turned back to Colin and, irritated, Harry sat up. “Go on..”

  “No,” Elspeth said. “It’s your book. Read it yourself.”

  Harry was about to protest when the door to the nursery opened. Clifford Harker looked at his sons then at his servant. His eyes narrowed.

  “Elspeth, why aren’t you dressed.”

  She stood. “Boys,” she said. “Would you please go outside and play by the steps. If you stay clean, I’ll make you both a berry tart tonight.”

  Colin and Harry grinned at one another then ran from the room.

  Clifford Harker watched his sons go then turned back to Elspeth. “I asked you a question. Why aren’t you dressed?”

  “I am dressed, Master,” she said.

  “You are not,” he said. “I told you to wear the blue dress I brought you.”

  “I decided against it,” she replied, lifting her chin up a bit. “This one will do.”

  Clifford sighed and shut the door. He turned back to Elspeth, his expression stern. “No,” he replied. “It will not.”

  Silence hung between them.

  “Are you refusing my order then?”

  Elspeth hesitated for a moment and then swallowed and nodded.

  “Very well.”

  Clifford Harker walked to the window and looked down at his sons playing in the yard. Then he closed the shutters and walked back over to Elspeth, who knew what was coming but was too scared to run.

  Taking her harm, he pulled her across the room, sat down and hauled her over his lap, reaching down as he did to remove the leather-heeled slipper she wore on her left foot.

  Tears squeezed from between Elspeth’s tightly closed eyelids as she felt him raise the hem of the dress she’d so stubbornly insisted on wearing. The air of the room was cool as it hit the bare skin of her now-uncovered bottom.

  But the heat of the first fierce, stinging smack of her own shoe quickly replaced the chill and as much as Elpeth tried not to cry out, she could not help but to yelp as Clifford Harker wielded the shoe with fierce accuracy.

  He struck her repeatedly on the lower part of her bottom, targeting the area that would make contact with whatever she sat upon over and over. Elspeth felt cries forcing themselves from between her lips as he worked the slipper from the under curve of each cheek down to the tops of her thighs and back up again. She didn’t want to cry out loudly, worrying that if she did the boys might hear, so when the pain reached the point she could bear she bit down on her knuckle and sobbed around it.

  “Will you, or will you not don that dress? Clifford Harker stopped several times to put the question to her, but when she did not answer he continued spanking Elspeth until the reddening skin became covered in deep, purple ovals.

  And then, without explanation, he stopped.

  Elspeth felt herself tipped from his lap and Clifford stood, dropping the shoe on the floor at her feet. Straightening his coat, he looked down at her.

  “You were right, I should not have offered,” he said. “It was with great personal pain that I even opened that wardrobe. To have done such a thing for you was clearly a mistake.”

  He turned then and walked away, leaving Elspeth with a new kind of pain she could not quite comprehend or explain.

  She remained rooted to the spot as she listened to his footfalls retreating down the stairs, heard his voice ordering the children to hurry lest they be late.

  Turning, she limped to the window and cracked the shutter. He was loading the boys into the carriage, and she could hear Colin asking over and over where his governess was before his father curtly replied that she wasn’t going to attend services with them after all.

  Elspeth wanted to run down the stairs, to go after them. The urge was so strong, in fact, that she had to grasp the window sash to stay in place. And as she watched the carriage roll down the path leading away from the house, it occurred to her that on this occasion, her Master had given her a spanking she’d richly deserved.

  She’d not stopped to think what it must have taken for him to go through his late wife’s belongings to find something suitable for her to wear. His motivation had not been selfish or cruel; as a member of the community he cared about their reputation and had wanted her to be presentable as a member of the household.

  Walking from the nursery, she returned to her room and picked up the blue dress from the bed, inhaling the same scent that Clifford Harker had inhaled – a faint perfume the boys had smelled, a smell that likely brought them comfort because they associated it with the one person who loved them more than anything in the world.

  Laying the dress back down, she unfastened the garment she was wearing and removed it, turning for a moment to survey her injured backside in the mirror. It looked bad, and felt worse – like a blister that would pop any minute. The idea of sitting in a hard wooden pew nearly made her nauseous with dread. But she knew the time had come to make atonement, not just in words but in deed.

  Turning from her reflection, Elspeth slipped the blue dress over her head and fastened it. Facing the mirror again, she gasped at her reflection. The garme
nt fitted her to a tee, and accentuated a figure she didn’t realize she had. She looked not a servant now, but a lady, and even moreso when she redid her hair into a bun and cleaned her face.

  She stood back, surveying herself a bit longer. She knew by the boys coloring that Caroline had been fairer, and that brought her comfort. She did not want to show up in the church and have everyone look at her and see a ghost. But still…she wondered if Clifford Harker was really prepared to see her in his wife’s clothing.

  Elspeth knew she would find answers to this question and that the decision to attend church would either be seen as a sign of submission to his will or an exhibition of nerve. He’d left without her, which meant he’d rescinded his invitation, and the offer of the dress. Would he be angry? She almost paused, but something told her to press on, that the risk was one she had to take.

  The morning was somber, the sky a slate gray backdrop for the few leaves that still clung to the branches overhead. The ones that had fallen crunched under her feet and Elspeth counted her steps as she went, trying to keep her mind off her apprehension and the pain in her bottom.

  The discomfort had subsided a bit, but enough of it lingered to remind her that the man she served was unwavering in his commitment to see his rules followed. In a world where he could not predict what would or could happen next, Elspeth now realized this man likely clung to what order he could through the running of his household.

  The church was in sight now, horses tied and already catnapping in front of the carriages they were hitched to. From inside he small white building Elspeth could hear singing, could imagine row after row of women like Mrs. Habersham sitting there and turning judgemental eyes on her as she walked in. Again she felt the need to turn and run away, but forced herself to keep moving forward past the large sycamore trees, past the little graveyard littered with graves including the one of the woman whose dress she wore. Caroline. Beloved mother.

  She walked on, her hands shaking she put it to the wooden door and walked in. The Reverend was just taking the podium and was about to speak as she entered. As Elspeth had feared, all eyes turned to see her and her face grew warm with her self-consciousness. Quickly she scanned the small sanctuary until she saw the faces she was looking for. She focused on them, and then alone, blotting everything else from her vision. Clifford and Harry and Colin were her little islands in a sea of uncertainty, and she moved towards them on a current of hope.

  Clifford Harker’s wore no expression, but the boys were all smiles as they tried to discreetly beckon her to their seat. Elspeth moved towards them, ignoring the sounds of whispers as she passed the group of gossipy matrons who held court with the Reverend’s wife.

  There was little space in the pew, and as she approached Elspeth was struck by a dread fear: What if her actions at the house had been the final straw? What if her attendance at church was no only no longer required, but no longer welcome.

  She was standing by the pew now, looking down at the man she served, and two little boys she’d come to love. And she held her breath, only daring to exhale when Clifford Harker picked up the Bible and slid over to make a space for her between himself and the boys.

  They did not look at one another as she settled in, but beside her a little voice sighed. She felt Colin slide his tiny hand in hers as he turned to his brother, his whispered voice full of wonder.

  “She smells like a mommy,” he said, and Elspeth squeezed his hand.

  “Quiet,” she said kindly, and turned to concentrate on the sermon she listened to with a lump in her throat.

  ***

  Clifford did not give the scandal-mongering matrons the opportunity to make Elspeth any more uncomfortable than he knew she already was. After the service, he whisked her and the boys out and away towards home. Behind them, the pinched faces crumpled in disappointment at having their quarry escape before they could save it with their veiled insults and innuendo.

  “Did you see her?” they asked. “I do believe she was wearing Caroline’s frock? And sitting with the rest of them, bold as brass….”

  He could not bring himself to tell her that he’d secretly hoped she’d come on her own; he did not want his servant to know that the incident of that morning had filled him with conflicted feelings. Elspeth’s rejection of the dress had felt like a rejection of Caroline, and by extension a rejection of him and the boys.

  Clifford was not an ignorant or emotional man; he knew the feelings he had were irrational and could not bring himself to admit what they meant: he was lonely. He was lonely, and as much as he’d sought to detach himself from this slip of a servant girl, her warmth and easy manner with his children touched him.

  He sought to control her as he sought to control himself, hoping that order in one area would mean order in all. But Elspeth was unpredictable, delightfully unpredictable. And while he’d felt a stab of pain at seeing how remarkably well his dead wife’s dress fit her, as much as it had hurt to hear his son’s comment, he’d also been somewhat soothed by having her there with them, the act itself a willing display of obedience and contrition.

  Clifford wanted to tell her, but didn’t think it was proper. So he drove home in silence, listening to his servant talk to his little boys, her tone genuinely caring and maternal as she praised their good behavior during the service and asking if they’d like to help her pick berries for the tarts.

  Chapter Seven

  Elspeth and the boys picked as many berries as they could carry, and it was a good thing, too. For that night a cold wind came in that howled and howled. She was used to winds like this on the downs of her homeland and knew when it came with a chill it would end berry picking until spring.

  The warm glow of candlelight filled the kitchen, the smell of baking and the warmth of the crackling blaze in the kitchen fireplace filled Elspeth with a happy, content feeling as she turned her attention to helping the boys roll out their own individual berry tarts.

  “Isn’t cooking woman’s work?’ Clifford had put the question to her from the kitchen door earlier as he had come in to survey his flour-covered sons.

  “We’re only helping,” Colin said defensively.

  “Mr. James in town is a baker,” Harry replied, and Elspeth looked up in surprise. She’d never heard Clifford’s reserved, eldest son speak up to his father and for a moment she felt a surge of fear.

  But Clifford only suppressed a smile before taking a draw from his pipe and winking at his sons.

  “So he is,” he said. “And a noble profession it is. And necessary, too, unless one is so fortunate as to have a servant capable of filling the house with the aroma of baking tarts.”

  Elspeth felt her face grow warm with pleasure. After her spanking earlier in the day she was pleased to hear the rare compliment from the stoic master of the house.

  When Clifford disappeared from the doorway, she turned to find Harry looking at her, wearing a small smile so similar to his father’s that it was uncanny. She knew he was pleased with himself for speaking up, and pleased with his father for not berating him for it.

  “So how’s this?” He peeled up a nearly round piece of dough from the floured surface of the table where they working.

  “Excellent,” she said, pushing a small metal pan over to him. “Now lay it in here. It’ll be too big but you’ll need to…”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “I’ll need to pinch around the edges and take the extra off. I watched you.”

  “Clever lad,” she said.

  “I’m clever, too.” Colin reached over to grab his own pan and placed his less-than-perfect wad of dough into it.

  “Good job,” she heard Harry say as she turned to retrieve her tart from the oven. It was good to hear he older lad praise and encourage the younger. Harry was more like his father – quiet and more prone to criticism than not. Elspeth suspected Colin took after his other with his eternal optimism and penchant for seeing the good in almost every situation.

  She was turning to put the steaming tart
on the sideboard when Harry spoke to her again.

  “I read that book you gave me,” he said.

  “Book? What book?” Elspeth turned to him and picked up the bowl holding the remainder of the berries.

  Harry took the bowl and began spooning the berries into his tart shell. “The one you gave me to read in my head. In church. Remember?”

  Elspeth smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Tell me again – how did it begin?”

  “Once again there was an angry king who lived by the sea,” Harry said, and Elspeth smiled.

  “You remembered!” she exclaimed. “So tell me, Harry. What happened in the story. For I never got to read the book myself.”

  Harry’s cheeks flushed pink in the candlelight. He didn’t look up at Elspeth now, but concentrated on the filling the tart as he spoke.

  “The queen had died,” he said quietly. “And the two princes were sad and lonely because the king never smiled.”

  Elspeth sunk down into the chair by the table.

  “Harry…” she began, but he ignored her.

  “Then one day a lady came from across the ocean to work in the king’s household. The king brought her there because he was too busy being angry to care for them properly, or to tell them what they needed to hear.”

  Elspeth felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, but she did not stop him now.

  “The king was not nice to the lady although she worked very hard. Sometimes he became angry at her for no reason and beat her. But she didn’t leave, even though she probably felt like it, because she wanted to stay with the princes. She stayed because she loved them, which is what the princes wanted to hear. And even though the lady didn’t say it with words, she said it by staying by their side.”

  The tears slipped down her cheeks now and she felt the words “Oh, Harry…” form in her throat but they could not reach her tongue.

  “Then one day the king fell in love with the lady and asked her to be his queen…”

  And here Elspeth did stop him, gently putting a hand to his mouth.