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Chapter 4

Parker knocked nervously on the door. Buffy could be a little spitfire when she got riled up, he’d seen a few fights between her and his mother in the months before she moved from Crawford Place to her little house. Well, she had no reason to get angry with him, he’d brought her a replacement horse. This one was really more appropriate for her anyway. Gordian was a race horse, he didn’t know why her father had given her the beast.

Besides, what other choice did he have? He could have hardly backed down from that smirking English bastard last night. Seemed like everywhere he went, that was all anyone was talking about, William Montgomery and his new shipping business. He knocked again, more forcefully this time.

"Mr. Parker, good morning."

"Good morning, Winifred, I need to see Miss Buffy."

He leered at her and Fred disappeared in a flurry of skirts up the stairs. He watched as she went, wondering if the rumor he’d heard about her being a former lightskirt was true. Seemed like an awfully timid little thing, but Buffy took in the strangest types. He might have to investigate that more closely one of these days.

Why she sent away her little slave girl back North he’d never understood. What had her name been? No matter. She’d been a feisty little piece, quite the fighter when he’d managed a go at her while Buffy was still living with them. He’d have happily bought her if Buffy had been looking to sell, she had more spirit than most, like her mistress he supposed. Well, there was no doubt, Buffy had picked up some odd notions up there in Boston, but she knew better than to push things too far in Charleston.

He stalked around the parlor, impatient for this to be over. Yes, she was an odd little duck, but one of these days she’d come around. Maybe even take him up on some of his . . . offers. Now if she just didn’t pitch a fit and run to his father about that damn horse. He heard a flurry on the upper floor and prepared himself for the confrontation.

+++

Buffy straightened her collar and smoothed her hair in the hall mirror, lightly knocking on Willow’s door. An already coifed Willow emerged, giving Buffy a glimpse of Tara sitting at the dressing table putting the final pins in her hair.

"Good morning Buffy."

"Morning Willow."

She lowered her voice. "Parker’s here. Can one of you rescue me in a bit?"

Willow nodded. "Why is he here at this time of day?" She glanced at the small watch pinned to her bodice. "It’s a little early in the morning for a social call!"

Buffy shrugged. "I hope he’s here to return Mr. Gordo. Though promptness is not one of Parker’s usual traits and I’m surprised they would have had time to look him over at the farrier’s already." Her eyes widened. "Willow, do you think something’s happened to him?"

"Don’t be silly, I’m sure he’s fine. Go on, we’ll be down in a minute."

Buffy took a deep breath to prepare herself for Parker, then descended to find him lurking in the hallway.

"Why Buffy, don’t you look fresh as a morning daisy."

She fought to keep the look of repulsion off her face as he reached for her hand to salute it, avoiding him as she hastily stepped to the side and pretended to tweak a wax flower on the hall occasional table that had been perfectly straight before. "Why thank you Parker, and good day to you as well. Did you bring Gordian back?"

He laughed and took her arm to lead her into the parlor.

"So direct. I always appreciated that about you, Buffy." He steered her to a seat and she pulled away, miffed at his proprietary manner in her own home. "Did I mention that Mother sends her greetings? She’s having a dinner party next week and would like you to attend. She’ll be calling on you this afternoon."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Parker, you didn’t get up this early to tell me your mother plans to call. Where’s my horse?"

"Now, Buffy . . ."

"Don’t now Buffy me. Where’s Gordian Knot?"

Parker rang the small bell that summoned Fred, who had been lurking outside the door.

"Winifred, can you get us something to drink? Perhaps some sherry? I know it’s early, but Miss Buffy is a bit overwrought."

Fred glanced at the clearly agitated Buffy and gave a quick nod before fleeing. Buffy was on her feet and advancing on Parker by the time he turned around.

"Parker, if you’ve hurt my horse . . ."

"Buffy, the horse is fine. And I’m sure will receive excellent care."

As she came a step closer, Parker threw up his hands. She really was a little fireball, he could almost see the sparks flashing in her eyes.

"Parker, for the last time. Tell me what you’ve done with my horse." He edged off the seat and away from her.

"Well. Last night I had to have dinner with the Wilkins. You know Harmony don’t you?"

"Don’t change the subject Parker," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Right. To abbreviate, after dinner we had a friendly game of cards and the new Englishman, Montgomery, challenged me for Gordian. I couldn’t back down from a challenge to a Southern gentleman’s honor, now could I Buffy? Sadly, he won, through cheating no doubt. So I had to turn over the horse."

As Buffy advanced on him with a conflagration raging in her eyes, he held up his hands and continued.

"So I’ve brought you a young filly from our stables, a real beauty, wonderful lines, very gentle, perfect for a lady like yourself."

He found himself backed against the wall as Buffy’s finger hit his chest.

"I do not want another horse. I want my horse. Get it back, Parker."

"Buffy, I can’t. Montgomery won."

"Oh yes you can. He wasn’t yours to lose. Go tell him that."

Parker backed up again until he reached the hallway and saw the door with relief. Clearly his efforts at appeasement weren’t going to work.

"The little filly’s outside. Sorry about that Buffy, couldn’t be helped. If you want the horse back, you’ll have to get it yourself. " He lunged for the door and was gone before she could react. Buffy watched as the door slammed behind him, then turned and stalked back up the stairs. Willow gaped as she marched past her, her mouth set in a thin, straight line.

"Um, Buffy, what just happened?"

Buffy shook her head and continued her march. Willow turned to Fred, who was staring wide-eyed after Buffy’s retreating skirts, a glass of sherry clutched in her hand.

"Fred?"

"He lost her horse in a bet last night."

Willow gasped. "He lost Mr. Gordo?"

Fred nodded.

"And said he couldn’t get him back because of his honor as a Southern gentleman."

Tara joined them. "Is Buffy alright? She just went slamming into her room."

"Parker lost Mr. Gordo."

"Oh my, did he run away?"

"Not hardly, Parker gambled with him as the stakes."

"Oh. That explains the slamming door."

Fred reemerged from the dining room into the hallway.

"Miss Willow, Miss Tara, would you like some breakfast? I think the little one will be up soon."

Tara turned. "In all this hubbub, I’d almost forgotten we had a new guest. How is she?"

"I think she’s alright. Still shaken though, she was talking quite a bit in her sleep. Poor little mite, she’s just had one terrible thing after the other happen since she arrived in Charleston," Fred replied.

"I’ll go up and talk to her, see if we maybe can find something for her to wear." Tara retreated up the stairs as Willow and Fred made their way back to the dining room.

"So what is Buffy going to do?"

Fred shrugged helplessly. "I don’t know. Mr. Parker told her he couldn’t get Mr. Gordo back, she’d have to herself. He brought her another one though."

Willow grimaced. "Parker is an idiot. Buffy loves Mr. Gordo, she won’t be satisfied with another horse. Do you suppose she’s really going to try to get it back?"

The subject of their conversation appeared in the door, attired in widow’s black from head to toe, smoothing her gloves and straightening her bonnet as if in answer to the question.

"Fred, Willow, I’ll be back shortly."

"Buffy, what are you going to do?" Willow asked with concern. When Buffy got that look in her eye, bad things often happened.

"What that sniveling little fool won’t."

"But, Buffy, it’s not even 8:30 yet, it’s too early to call on anyone!"

Buffy’s determined face hardened further. "I don’t care. Mr. Montgomery will just have to get up, he has my horse."

Willow glanced at Fred, who returned her look of concern. There was little to be done when Buffy was this riled up. "Do you want me to come with you? Or at least take Fred?"

Buffy shook her head firmly. "No. I’m a widow, not some blushing schoolgirl, and this isn’t a social call, it’s business. I don’t need a chaperone. Besides, it’s early, no one will know I’ve been there. Will you just go ahead and check on Dawn, please?"

Willow looked doubtful at this line of reasoning but Buffy was already starting out the door.

"Alright, we will, Buffy. Tara already went up to talk with her and find her something to wear."

+++

Buffy turned the corner as she walked briskly to the next street over where she knew this mysterious Montgomery everyone was so agog over had taken up residence. Convenient that he was so close, she’d hopefully be able to call on him, explain the situation and return with Mr. Gordo before ladies began to leave for the daily shopping at the market.

She paused before the intricate iron gates that opened to the pathway leading to the old Weston mansion. This was it. She took a deep breath and started up the walkway. As she reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the verandah, a momentary wash of panic overtook her. What was she doing here? Alone? At 8:30 in the morning?

Willow had been right, she should have waited for her to accompany her. That would have been more dignified. Though she supposed that her widow’s black should dissuade this Mr. Montgomery that she was some sort of floozy calling on him with improper intentions. Pity he didn’t have a wife, it would have been so much easier to appeal her case if there was a Mrs. Montgomery around.

She mounted the steps to the front door and raised the ornate and heavy knocker. She studied the design, some sort of coat of arms, must be his family’s crest. She wondered idly if he was actually a lord. There had been all sorts of rumors flying about, that he was wealthy as Croecus, that he was going to revolutionize the harbor, that he was a lord looking for a Southern bride to bring new blood into his family.

She snorted delicately. That last one had definitely been the product of too many marriage mad mamas hopeful they’d make the match of the season. Having been that match, Buffy didn’t know who to pity more, the poor girl who ended up stuck with Mr. Montgomery, or him if he succumbed to the lure of a Southern lilt and a fluttering fan. They’d both probably end up miserable.

She raised the knocker again. This was odd. She’d expected better service at a house of this caliber. Maybe he was having trouble adjusting to the servants. She wondered idly if he’d purchased house slaves or just rented them from one of the other families. Either way, no one was answering the door.

She turned and walked down the steps. After glancing around, she moved as stealthily as a large hoop skirt allowed around the corner of the building. If she recalled correctly, the Weston’s had built a small stable in the back.

+++

William finished fastening his tie and rolled his eyes in frustration. He was sure there was someone at the front door knocking.

"Dalton," he roared, "Answer the bleeding door."

A second knock and still no sounds from the foyer which would indicate the door had been answered. He hurried down the steps and yanked open the door. No one. He slammed the door shut and paced back up the steps to the third floor and knocked on the door of his butler’s room.

"Dalton, are you in there?"

A shuffling of feet and Dalton opened the door, a cloth draped across his forehead. "I’m most sorry sir, I though Anna had passed on to you that I was ill. This dreadful weather has laid me low again."

William sighed. Maybe trying to import servants had been a bad idea. But when he’d determined to sell the townhouse in London and move to Charleston permanently for this venture, they’d pleaded as a body to be allowed to come.

And he knew why. Because he was the most pathetic excuse for an employer out there. Give him command of a ship and he was in his element. Put him at the docks and he could order around the biggest and burliest and they’d respect him.

But something about well-trained house servants, with their oh so specific rules and hierarchies completely baffled him. He suspected it was because he hadn’t grown up accustomed to them and had always felt a little bullied when he had visited in his father’s home. At least with Dalton here the man was so mild-mannered he could occasionally make some headway.

"Fine. But you need to arrange for one of the other maids to answer the door if you’re incapacitated. Someone just called and no one answered the door."

"Yes sir, I’ll make sure of it." Dalton winced as he began to move the cloth from his head.

"Go lay back down, I’ll find one of the girls and put her at the front door."

"Excellent, sir. Oh, and I need to bring to your attention that one of the maids has unfortunately left your employment."
"Left? Why?"

"It would appear she has fallen in love with a young farmer who lives up river and has eloped with him."

William took another deep breath. He really, desperately needed someone to handle these domestic crises. He certainly hoped Harmony Wilkins would be useful in that respect at least.

"Very well, begin interviewing."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Dalton?"

"It appears customary for the gentry of this area to use Africans as house servants. I understand they can be purchased in the Market downtown . . ."

William turned. "Dalton, I may be living in this city and I’ll have to adopt some of their ways, but we are English. We do not own slaves. Now there have to be some immigrants to this city, find a nice Irish girl or something."

"Yes, Mr. Montgomery."

+++

Buffy made her way back to the stables and slipped inside. There he was! She slipped the chunk of apple from her reticule and held it out as Mr. Gordo knickered a greeting.

"Yes, my pretty boy, have you been treated well?"

She absently stroked the horse as she looked around the small stable. It was very well kept, she had to admit. Clean, good feed, probably better than where she boarded him. His coat had been brushed to a high gloss as well. She had to give Montgomery some credit, it spoke well of a man to take such good care of his animals. After a few more pats and promises to retrieve him soon, Buffy slipped from the stables. Now to find Montgomery.

+++

William poured another cup of tea from the sideboard as he absently looked out on the rear courtyard. The domestic crisis appeared to be under control. Anna, the head maid, or whatever she was called, he never seemed to have the right title, had assured him she could find a replacement and train her.

Now, if he could just gather his thoughts for a moment, read through the morning paper and have his last cup of tea, he’d be off to the shipyard to catch up with Xander, who’d always been an earlier riser.

A sudden swish of black attacked his attention. He pulled the drape aside and peered out the window. There appeared to be a woman meandering around his backyard. She stepped out of the stable, reentered it, came back out, then started across the courtyard. Was she a horse thief? If so, she had the oddest apparel he’d ever seem for such an endeavor. He hastily crossed to the door and hurried down the steps to accost the woman.

"Miss, ma’am, stop there!"

She turned and he could see past the deep bonnet that had shielded her face. William stopped dead in his tracks.

"Buffy?"





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