A BRIDE most BEGRUDGING
By DEEANNE GIST
Bethany House Publishers
Copyright © 2005
Deeanne Gist
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0-7642-0072-0
Chapter One
Virginia Colony
Two Months Later
THE GOWN THEY GAVE her fit too closely. It displayed her figure
with humiliating clarity, but perhaps that would work to her advantage.
She had lost so much weight, she couldn't imagine any farmer wanting
to invest in such a sickly looking woman.
Several tobacco planters had been on board already to examine the
"cargo." The men stood chained on one side of the upper deck, the
women on the other. The men were being sold as indentured servants for
seven or fourteen year terms, depending upon their sentence.
But the women were to serve a lifetime sentence. They were to be
purchased as brides. One bride in exchange for 120 pounds of tobacco
leafage, the colony's cash crop.
All except Constance, that is. She had been placed alone up on the
half deck, her wrists and ankles shackled, the first mate standing guard
behind her right shoulder. The captain was asking two hundred pounds
of tobacco for her. Ridiculous.
Her gaze drifted over the indentured men. Uncle Skelly was not
among them, of course. How could he be?
Only twice during the voyage had the captain allowed the women
onto the upper deck for fresh air. The first time up, she'd passed Uncle
Skelly on the mid deck. With a collar and padlock about his neck, they
had chained him not only to a board but to three of the most abominable
creatures she had ever seen. Jail fever consumed one of those creatures.
The second time up, she had found Uncle Skelly's place on the board
eerily vacant. The first mate, Cooper, had confirmed her fears. Skelly
Morrow was dead.
Constance swallowed the rush of tears that even now accumulated in
her throat at the memory.
"Look lively, maiden. Here comes a'one," Cooper snarled.
She stiffened as a young farmer of but a score or so years approached
the half deck. He looked at Cooper, nodded slightly, then turned to her.
She jerked back when he captured some strands of her hair between
his long work-roughened fingers. The captain had not allowed her to
wear a headcloth this morning. He'd insisted on having her hair loose and
uncovered around her shoulders and back.
This display was nothing short of blasphemy. A woman's hair was
sacred and a recognized symbol of her maidenhood, only to be worn free
while speaking wedding vows.
She'd never felt so naked in her life. Her hair wasn't soft and silky like
other women's. It was wild and thick with tightly coiled ringlets that
seemed to multiply when unbound.
The bay breeze picked up, causing her hair to swirl around her face.
She tried again to free herself from the man's grasp.
"Easy, miss. I'll not hurt you," he said.
His voice was kind, as were his eyes. He did not rake her with an
offensive look nor handle her roughly. If he asked to see her teeth,
though, she'd be most uncooperative.
Below, two men captured her attention. One was a dark-haired
farmer with a straw hat in his hand. The other was blond and had been
on board the ship during the passage over. He'd not been a prisoner, nor
had he been a crew member. She'd learned he had paid an extraordinary
fee for his passage to the colony, a place he claimed as his home.
The pair singled out Mary, the woman who'd been chained next to
Constance the entire voyage over. They spoke with Mary, checked her
teeth, and had her walk the length of the deck and back.
The captain approached them. More words were exchanged. The
bargaining had begun. In a few minutes, Mary's fetters were removed and
she left the ship with the blond man, while the dark-haired farmer signed
a voucher for the captain.
Constance tapped down her panic. Mary was more than a fellow
prisoner. She was Constance's only friend.
Of a sudden, the captain pointed to Constance and the farmer turned
in her direction. He narrowed his eyes, finished his transaction with the
captain, and headed to the half deck.
She returned her attention to the young man in front of her. He still
had hold of her hair, but he was focused on Cooper.
"... a gen-u-ine lady, she is," the first mate was saying.
"Then why was she transported?" the man asked.
"Oh, we didn't ask questions. Not our job to ask questions."
She rolled her eyes.
"You have papers for her?"
"No, he does not," Constance replied.
Cooper grabbed her arm. "Keep quiet, missy, or you'll be the sorrier
for it."
"Looking for a bride, Gerald?" The dark-haired farmer had reached
the half deck.
The man who must have been Gerald released her hair and jumped
back. "Drew! No, not at all."
"Is she for sale?" Drew asked Cooper.
"Aye, mate."
"As a tobacco bride?"
"Aye."
Drew turned back to Gerald and raised an eyebrow.
"Now, Drew, it is not what it appears. I was merely curious."
"You gave up the right to be curious the moment you married my
sister."
Gerald's face filled with color. "Actually, it was you I was thinking
of," he sputtered.
Drew lifted both brows this time.
Gerald swallowed. "I, uh, just thought if you found someone of an,
uh, acceptable nature, you might be interested."
"And you deem this female acceptable?"
Gerald paused. "They say she is a lady of the realm, Drew."
"She has red hair, and I absolutely abhor red hair"
She stiffened. Gerald's face suffused with color. Although her hair was
more auburn than red, Gerald's hair was almost orange, it was so bright.
"Your pardon. I did not know."
"Well, well, well. What have we here? Looking for a bride, Master
O'Connor?" A scrawny, slovenly man with more teeth missing than not
swaggered onto the half deck.
Tension bounced between the three men. Drew put on his hat,
shifted his attention to Constance, and tipped his brim. "If you will
excuse me, miss." He, along with his brother-in-law, moved past her, past
the man with the missing teeth, and past two other farmers now
approaching the half deck.
The scraggy man watched them leave and ejected tobacco-colored
saliva onto the wooden planks as he followed their progress.
"Emmett," greeted one of the advancing farmers. He and his companion
both had great bushy black beards, jolly faces, and rounded bellies.
Perhaps they were kin.
"Woodrum," Emmett said, then turning to her, grabbed her cheeks
and squeezed until her mouth gaped open. "Well, would you look at all
them teeth. Why, she's got a mouth full of 'em. How's the rest of her,
Cooper? You patted her down?"
She reared back, trying to grab his arm, but the chains around her
wrists and waist restricted her movement. He tightened his grip. The rank
smell of him took her breath away, and if he'd had any fingernails at all,
they'd have cut half-moons into her cheeks.
"No damaging of the goods, matey, until after you buy her," Cooper
said. "Pat all you want, but don't be leaving any bruises."
She stiffened. Emmett released her with a shove, and she would have
fallen backward if the big man called Woodrum hadn't caught her elbow.
Once she was steady, he relaxed his hold, then let go of her completely.
Emmett raked his gaze up and down her frame, rubbing his hands
against his puny chest. "Why's she up here away from them other brides?"
"She's one of them ladies of the realm, she is," Cooper responded.
"And she'll cost you a few more tobaccy leaves than them others."
"What proof you got fer yer claim? I say she's nothing more than a
quail plucked right off them London alleyways." He eyed her again. "She
shore got what it takes to do the job, and I ain't gonna be paying out a
bunch of sot weed for used goods."
Woodrum scratched his cheek. "How much are you asking for her?"
"Two hundred pounds," Cooper answered.
Emmett harrumphed. "Of tobaccy? You'll not be gettin' two
hundred pounds for a light skirt."
"She's a gen-u-ine lady, mate, but no bloke's a forcin' you to claim
her. We already got us a bid for her, we do."
Emmett furrowed his brows. "From who?"
"Drew O'Connor."
Woodrum and his silent companion looked at each other, caution
evident in their expressions. Emmett's eyes took on an unnatural brilliance.
Constance didn't know what game the first mate was playing, but
she would hold her tongue for now.
"O'Connor, you say?" Emmett asked. "How much did he offer?"
"Two hundred."
"Then why's the maid still here?"
"She has to be paid for in tobaccy only. No vouchers. The capt'n
wouldn't release her or take her off the block before collecting payment.
O'Connor went to collect his sot weed."
As far as she knew, that was an outright lie, but she couldn't be certain.
The merciless sun beat down upon them. Sweat trickled down
Emmett's face and into his snarled beard. "Well, ain't that interesting." He
wiped his hands against his backside, then looked to the first mate. "May
I?"
"Help yourself," Cooper replied.
Emmett reached for her.
She leaned away from him. "Touch me, and I'll see you flogged
before the morrow's sun appears on the horizon."
Emmett's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Ho, ho! Would you listen
to that? A saucy one, ain't she?" Cackling, he rubbed his hands together.
Constance tensed.
"Leave off, Emmett," Woodrum said, grabbing Emmett's arm. "It's
clear that she is healthy and there is no padding beneath her garment."
Emmett's lip curled. "What's it to you, Woodrum?"
"Either up Drew's wager or keep your hands to yourself."
"I ain't makin' no bid till I test the goods."
Without taking his eyes off Emmett, Woodrum handed his hat to his
companion, removed his coat, and relinquished that as well. He slowly
began to roll up his sleeves.
The man's belly may have been round, but his arms and chest
appeared to be solid rock. "You'll not touch her unless you pay for the
privilege."
Smelling a fight, the farmers on the upper deck had begun to crowd
close.
Emmett slowly lowered his hands. "Two hundred twenty, Cooper. I'll
give you two hundred twenty pounds for her."
"Two twenty-five," Woodrum countered.
It was time to speak up. "Gentlemen," she interjected, "this is really
all quite unnecessary. I am not a tobacco bride. I am the daughter of an
earl. The captain kidnapped me and is trying to sell me unlawfully. As
soon as the governor comes aboard, I will have an audience with him and
will then be freed and on my way back to London."
Her statement, made during one of those unfortunate moments when
every person in the crowd, for whatever reason, is silent all at once,
carried across the entire breadth of the ship.
The quiet that followed her pronouncement was fraught with shock.
On the heels of that, a huge swell of laughter and guffaws from the whole
company of men rose to alarming levels. Even Woodrum was amused.
"Oh, she's a wicked one, she is," Emmett cackled. "Where's the
capt'n?"
The crowd parted, and the captain took the steps two at a time.
Woodrum and his friend receded into the crowd.
Emmett grasped the captain's hand. "I'll give you a whole hogshead
for her, capt'n, and while my field boy rolls it down here, I'll be
celebrating at the meetinghouse."
The captain pursed his lips for a moment, then broke into a grin.
"Three hundred pounds it is, then. Gentlemen, Goodman Emmett here
has purchased himself one high-born bride."
The men roared their approval and surged forward, encircling
Emmett. He put an X on the voucher and exchanged it for a receipt from
the captain. The excitement escalated and the crowd pulled Emmett off
the half deck and further away from her. He twisted around. The
depraved promise in his eyes projected itself into her very soul.
Bile converged in her throat. She was going to be sick. Forsooth, she
was going to be sick right here, right now.
Help me, Lord, help me. Where is the governor? Where are you, Lord?
Please, please. Help me.
As one, the company moved from the ship to the shore. And on, she
supposed, to the celebration.
Chills from within shot through her body, causing a series of bumps
to erupt along her arms and legs. Then an all-consuming anger at the
incredible injustice of it all made her blood surge. Her resolve solidified
and she focused in on the captain.
"How
dare you!" she cried. "You will not get away with this. Mark
you, if you do not arrange an audience with the governor at once, I will
create a commotion of such magnitude they will write legends about it."
The captain did not even bother to acknowledge her. "Throw her
back in the hold, Cooper," he said over his shoulder as he descended the
steps.
She filled her lungs with the intention of letting out a scream the likes
of which would not be ignored. Before she could release it, the first mate
squeezed a band of skin between her neck and her shoulder.
Debilitating pain cut off her scream and buckled her knees. She
crumpled to the ground. Cooper did not let go but followed her to the
floor. She whimpered, trying to pull away from the torturous vice his
fingers created.
His hot, foul breath invaded her ear. "Not one sound, dovey. Not
one."
Chapter Two
CONSTANCE LAY SHIVERING and alone belowdecks. Darkness
entombed the hold. Midnight had passed, but morning was still more
than a few hours away.
She felt certain the men's celebration was over, for the balance of
brides had been picked up long ago. All except for her.
She tried not to let desperation fill her. If the governor had put in an
appearance, it was after Cooper had forced her back into the hold and
secured her to the wall. With that opportunity gone, she knew there
would be no other. At least not anytime soon. And by the time she did
see the governor, it would be too late.
She would belong to a man. An odious, vulgar man who inspired
revulsion, loathing, and horror. A man who, in the eyes of this colony.
would have complete dominion over her. Who would have the right to
do with her as he saw fit.
Her stomach clinched and she pushed herself up off the rough planks
and heaved once again. Nothing left.
She'd managed to hold her fears at bay until the last bride had been
led to her doom. When the trapdoor had closed behind that poor
woman, it was the first time in over eight weeks that Constance had been
completely alone. And it terrified her. The dark, damp, malodorous deck
that had felt so cramped and hemmed in now loomed over her with a
soundless assault.
The irons around her waist and wrists weighted her down. Collapsing
onto the slats, she vaguely heard the scurrying of a rat echo off the walls
of the hold. A fresh rush of tears spilled from her eyes.
Have you heard my cries, Lord? Have you destroyed my enemy? Is that why
I am still here?
As if in answer, the squeak of the trapdoor reached her ears just as
light from a lantern reached her eyes, She covered her eyes with her arm,
the clanking of her chains ricocheting around her.
The heavy tread of the mate clomping down the steps sent her heart
into a terrible gallop. She curled into a tight ball.
Please. Please. Spare me,
Lord. Rescue me. Please!
The crewman's smell reached her before he did. "The call to
reckoning has come, wench. Up with ye, now. Yer man's arrived and it's
anxious he is to take possession of ye."
In a pig's eye, she thought. A great calm settled upon her. She slowly
unfurled, pulled herself into a sitting position, and looked up to see who
had the late night watch. Arman. A beastly excuse of a man.
He removed the lock attaching her to the wall and pulled the chain
from around her waist. Grabbing the irons around her wrists, he yanked
her to her feet. The room swirled round, but Arman gave her no time to
gain her sea legs.
She stumbled. He shoved her forward. She fell hard on her knees,
pain shooting up her legs to her back and neck.
"Get up," he snarled, jerking her back to her feet. "You'll not be
playing yer high-and-mighty games with me, missy. Ye might work yer
wiles upon Cooper, but yer nothin' more than a hen to that struttin'
rooster on the uppers, and if ye think to be givin' him or me any troubles,
it'll go the worse for ye."
She kept her face expressionless, but she would not cooperate with
Arman or the rooster. And she was prepared to do whatever it took to
free herself from the knave.
When they made the upper deck, she scanned the area for the despicable
Emmett man that had purchased her. He was not there. Instead,
Arman led her to stand in front of the dark-haired farmer they called
Drew O'Connor.
What was he doing here? Was he to take her to Emmett? But, no, it
had been clear those two were not on friendly terms. Confusion clouded
her thoughts.
"Remove the fetters," O'Connor said.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from A BRIDE most BEGRUDGING
by DEEANNE GIST
Copyright © 2005 by Deeanne Gist.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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