Chapter Fifteen

The church services were similar to those that she attended in England. They listened to a preacher deliver an address on the importance of Christmas and their worship. He also gave a prayer that all who were too ill to attend the service and wished all of his parishioners a safe and merry Christmas. They sang several hymns and concluded the service with a jolly carol.

Maggie did enjoy the church service. It was a true reminder of home and a welcome distraction to the tension that existed between herself and Joanna.

Maggie tried not to laugh as they sang a happy chorus of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen as Max’s singing talents were as subpar as his sister’s. He liked to tease Rebecca about her singing but he was no better. He comically told her to hush when he noticed her amusement.

The next morning, Maggie awoke alone in her bed. Max had already left to return to his own room as not to risk Nora or anyone walking in on them.

It was Christmas Day. If she were at home, her sisters would have woken her up by climbing into bed with her. Her large family would have gathered in the private, upstairs sitting room to exchange gifts while they were still in their night things. They would enjoy a warm breakfast by the crackling fireplace before her Aunt Bess would recruit the ladies to journey down to the kitchen to prepare the Christmas Day feast.

“Miss Maggie?” Nora called through the door, knocking three times. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Maggie replied, climbing out of bed. She picked up her robe from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around herself.

Nora entered her bedroom with a breakfast tray. “Merry Christmas, Miss Maggie.” She smiled warmly as she set it down on the bed. She then opened her drapes and allowed the morning sunlight to stream in.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Maggie replied cheerfully. She then remembered something from the day before. “Why are you working, Nora?” Maggie asked, confused. “Mr Kincaid said that two days’ work had to be completed yesterday as Mr Lavelle was allowing you time to yourselves today,” she recalled.

“The field workers, he means Miss Maggie,” Nora clarified. “The maids don’t work as hard so we have to keep going.” Maggie could see that her teeth were gritted.

Maggie knew that to be untrue. Maids worked their fingers to the bone, keeping the large estate houses spick and span. “That hardly seems fair,” Maggie said angrily. “You should spend the day with your sons.”

Nora chuckled. “I’d like to Miss, but it ain’t worth making Mrs Lavelle madder than a wet hen.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “You should take an hour or two. They won’t notice,” she urged.

“It’s very thoughtful of you, Miss Maggie, but the maids all have someone that they’d like to take an hour to spend time with. It would not be fair if I was the only one.”

Maggie truly admired the woman before her. Nora was a very selfless person.

The breakfast that Nora had brought her was similar to what she’d been served the day before. Biscuits and salted pork. She’d also been provided with coffee, fresh milk and a small pot of hot water. She would not be touching the vile coffee but she excitedly fetched the tea leaves that she’d brought with her from England.

“Have you ever had a proper pot of English tea, Nora?” She did not have a strainer so she would have to instruct Nora to avoid drinking the loose tea leaves at the bottom of the cup.

“No, no I haven’t,” Nora replied. “We usually drink milk.”

Maggie used a spoon and measured out a suitable amount to put into the cup on the tray. She then poured in the hot water and enjoyed the familiar aroma that came with a freshly brewed cup of tea. Maggie liked to have milk in her tea so she added a dash as well.

“This is probably England’s signature beverage,” Maggie informed Nora. “We drink it morning, noon and night.” She lifted the cup up to Nora. “Just sip. There are loose tea leaves in the cup.”

Nora looked quite concerned. “Are you sure you want to share a cup with me?”

“Yes,” Maggie replied simply. She knew that Nora’s reservations were about their prospective colours and positions. She didn’t want to encourage those sorts of thoughts. The way Maggie saw it, she was the future of the Lavelle Cotton Plantation, and the future would be very different from now.

Nora carefully took the cup from Maggie and took a sip of the tea. She thought for a moment before smiling. “Not something I’ve ever tried but it wasn’t half bad,” she said cheerfully. She gave the cup back to Maggie and she took a sip as well. She liked tea twenty times better than the coffee she’d sampled the day before.  

“My boys told me that they met you yesterday,” Nora commented as she chose an outfit for Maggie to wear for the day.

“I did meet them.” Maggie nodded. “Please do apologise for me. I fear I may have frightened them a little.” They did seem awfully rigid when they realised just who she was.

Nora laughed lightly. “They liked you just fine, Miss Maggie,” she assured her. “In fact Anthony thinks you are real easy on the eyes but don’t tell him I told you,” she whispered.

Maggie was very flattered to hear that. She thought them sweet, caring brothers, especially the elder in Anthony who seemed to take on a protective role when it came to his younger brother, Albert. “My lips are sealed,” she promised.

The garments that Nora selected for Maggie did not belong to her. She wondered where they had been sourced from.

“I put these in here last night,” she explained. “Mrs Lavelle thought you might be able to use them for today’s activity.”

A clean, button down shirt and a sturdy, brown skirt were in Nora’s hands. That was oddly thoughtful of Joanna.

“Pray, what is on today’s agenda?”

“Town ball, Miss Maggie,” replied Nora. “Do you know it?”

“No.” Maggie shook her head. “Though I can assume it is a sport of some sort.”

Nora nodded. “It’s something the master has played with Mr Kincaid since he was a boy. They’ve asked you to join them this morning. That was why your breakfast was served in your bedroom.”

Maggie enjoyed playing sports. She was a proficient cricketer thanks to her father and Uncle Emmett’s interest in the game. Now that their families were grown, it was often a Swifts versus Wildes affair.

She also enjoyed horseback riding, jumping and dressage, as well as archery and climbing. She did enjoy the outdoors very much.

Nora laced Maggie into her corset tightly and then helped her to slip her arms into the white shirt. Maggie buttoned it herself as she stepped into a single petticoat. The usual volume was simply impractical for playing sport. Maggie also donned a pair of her boots that lacked a heel. Nora brushed Maggie’s hair and fixed it in a tight bun. The fashionable, shoulder-length ringlets were, again, impractical for sport.

Maggie offered her breakfast to Nora, electing only to finish her tea before going downstairs to play town ball.

The outside temperature was cloudy and the sunshine was coming through from behind a blanket of clouds. The clouds made it look like it might rain in the afternoon.

On the grass in front of the house, both Isaac and Zachary stood holding a small, white ball and a wooden bat. It did resemble cricket remarkable though it lacked stumps of course.

“Ah, Maggie, good morning,” Isaac said cheerfully, “and merry Christmas to you.”

“Happy Christmas,” Maggie replied, smoothing the brown skirt as she joined them. “Good morning, Mr Kincaid,” she said politely to Zachary.

Zachary offered her a charming smile before tipping his hat. Today he wore a planter’s hat and he lifted it off of his head in polite greeting to her. “Good morning, Miss Maggie,” he said smoothly. “Are you at all familiar with town ball?”

“No,” she replied. “But I am with cricket. I assume the principles are similar.”

“We’re not familiar with cricket,” replied Isaac, “but I’ll explain the rules for you. We’ve set out five byes around in a sort of circle.” He points to several white markers that indicated a bye. The pitcher will throw the ball at you and the aim is to strike it as hard as you possibly can and then run to each of the byes before returning home to score, what’s called, a run. But your run is forfeit if your ball is caught after the first bounce.”  

Town ball was quite different to cricket, but it did not sound overly complicated and she was willing to try it.

“Maggie, would you like to catch the stray pitches behind the batter first to see how it’s done?” Zachary asked. “I don’t want you to miss and get disheartened. Uncle, would you like to bat?”

“Oh, no,” replied Isaac. “My old bones won’t have me running this time around.”

“I’d like to bat,” Maggie said boldly. She would not be ‘disheartened’ as Zachary seemed to think. She was a part of the Swift cricket team, after all. She knew how to hit a ball.

“Are you sure?” Zachary asked, sounding unconvinced as he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, let her have a go, Zachary,” Isaac said encouragingly. “I’ll catch and you can pitch.”

Maggie had never been more determined to hit a ball in her life. She wanted to hit the ball right over Zachary’s head to prove him wrong. Perhaps she was being overly competitive but she was going to show them up.

Maggie accepted the bat while Zachary walked to stand some twenty feet from her. She bashed it against the turf as she often did to deter the bowler in cricket but Isaac stopped her.

“Maggie, the bat is held against the shoulder,” he corrected her, helping her to position the bat properly.

It was a little awkward at first but Maggie kept her eye on the ball.

Zachary flashed a teasing smile and he winked at her before tossing the small ball towards her. The little white ball came hurtling towards her and she swung quickly. There was no sound, indicating that she’d missed.

She internally chided herself.

“It’s alright,” laughed Zachary. “You can’t hit all of them.”

“Again!” shouted Maggie, tightening her grip on the bat. Isaac threw the ball back to Zachary who caught it. Cockily, he threw the ball up in the air only to catch it again.   

“If you say so,” Zachary shouted back. It was still obvious that he was amused.

He threw the ball to Maggie, this time faster. She did not take her eye off the ball and she swung at precisely the right time. A loud crack sounded as her bat collided with the ball.

Maggie let out a cry of delight as the white ball flew through the air in the opposite direction, landing a hundred or so feet from them.

“Bravo,” commended Isaac.

Zachary seemed rather stunned for a moment before joining his uncle in congratulating Maggie. “I’d not expected that!” He chuckled and ran in to join them. “But I’m happy to be wrong.”

Maggie didn’t believe any man like to be proved wrong. “I come from a family that enjoys sport, Mr Kincaid,” Maggie said proudly. “I’ve been wielding a cricket bat for nigh on eleven years.” She waited for either Zachary or Isaac to say ‘adoptive’ but they didn’t.  

“You’ll have to teach us the game,” Zachary replied.

“I’ll go and get the ball,” Isaac volunteered, heading off on a leisurely stroll towards the ball.

“I have never seen a young lady do that before,” Zachary admitted, removing his hat and running his hand through his dark hair. “You are quite remarkable.”

Maggie was so pleased that she’d been able to hit the ball. “My father believed that exercise through sport as children was essential,” she explained. “He taught me well.”

“That he did,” commended Zachary. “Miss Maggie, can I be frank with you?” he asked seriously.

Maggie nodded, curious as to what he had to say. “Yes.”

“I like you very much,” he said simply, “more than I had expected to. It was suggested that we might form an attachment to each other. It would make sense, you see. But I had no counted on actually liking you as much as I do.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. She had not expected Zachary to confess anything so soon. If he liked her more than he expected to then his feelings were genuine and he was being honest. She had to be grateful for that. “Mr Kincaid, I –”

“I don’t expect a response from you,” Zachary promised, “but I would like it known that I would like to court you in the near future. Everything else can be worked out later.”

But Maggie was unsure if that was what she wanted. Zachary was charming and handsome to be sure but she did not want to give him false hope. Maggie wanted to write to her mother. She always knew what to say.

Max had wandered about the ground that Christmas morning with his drawing book and a piece of charcoal. He’d spied Maggie playing town ball in the garden and he’d smiled when he saw her determined figure strike the ball. He could remember playing town ball as a child in Philadelphia.

He settled in front of a bare oak tree and began to draw it. There was something majestic about trees and branches, especially when it came to oak trees. Their size was simply magnificent.

“You are a very talented artist, Mr Montgomery,” Joanna complimented as she sat down beside him on the grass.

Max had not heard her approach and was therefore a little startled. “Thank you, Mrs Lavelle,” he replied. “It’s something I enjoy greatly.”

Joanna smiled. “Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing to his drawing book.

Yes, he did mind. “Not at all.” He handed her his drawing book and Joanna began to peruse it.

Her smile widened when she came to the page that featured Janna. “The likeness is brilliant. You two make a fine pair. Are there others of Miss Janna?” she asked as she turned the page. She then frowned when the picture over the other side was Maggie. So was the next one, and the next. Some were profiles and some were scenes. Others were just her features. It was obvious to anyone, except Maggie, who viewed his drawings that he harboured intense feelings for her.

“There is an unusual bond between the two of you,” commented Joanna. She traced Maggie’s face with her index finger. “You are her protector and her friend.”

“I am,” Max replied simply.

“And her lover?”

Max choked on the air in his throat. He coughed uncontrollably for a moment before hoarsely saying, “What? No! She is as pure as the day she was born.”

“I won’t have my nephew marrying a soiled girl, Mr Montgomery,” Joanna said seriously. “He deserves a virtuous young lady, just as you would want for yourself, I am sure.”

“Your nephew won’t be laying a finger on Maggie if I have anything to do with it,” Max rebuffed angrily. He snatched his drawing back from Joanna and rose to his feet. “I know he has not a shilling to his name and he relies on your husband’s generosity,” he snapped, “but he will not be getting his fortune hunting hands on either Maggie’s dowry or her inheritance.”

Joanna’s blue eyes flared as she climbed to her feet also. “You are a very selfish young man,” she hissed. “Zachary was born to be the master of the Lavelle Plantation and my husband’s half-breed bastard will ensure the survival of us all!” she cried.

He would never strike a woman but if she called Maggie a half-breed or a mulatto again someone was going to have to hold him back. Max scoffed. “I’m selfish to want a safe and happy future for my dearest friend?” He shook his head. “If that makes me selfish then you are the bloody spawn of Satan.”

Joanna’s hand flew across his cheek and she slapped him hard. His cheek stung immensely. “I have but to snap my fingers, young man,” she said darkly. “I can snap my fingers and have you escorted to the nearest port.”

Max could see that a marriage between Zachary and Maggie was all Joanna desired. Over his dead body that would be happening. He would throw Maggie over his shoulder and drag her from the altar if he had to. “If you snap your fingers then Maggie will come with me, I can promise you that. Then any plans you have with fail.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Joanna tilted her head and stared at him, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

“Do not change the subject,” Max growled.

“And she has no idea.” A shrill giggle escaped her lips. “She is clueless and you are a coward, who knew?”

“I am not a coward,” Max said darkly. He merely was preserving their friendship.

“This marriage is going to take place, young man,” Joanna said firmly, “and you are not going to do a thing to stop it.”

Max arched an eyebrow. “Your threats do not frighten me,” he retorted.

“Regardless, sweet boy,” she said condescendingly, “you cannot compete with my nephew. You have waited too long and have missed your chance. I suggest you leave the plantation if you have no intention of marrying Miss Janna,” she urged, “while you still have an ounce of dignity.”

Max’s dignity was intact. He’d conducted himself in a gentlemanly manner and he strived to be there for Maggie in whatever way she needed him. It was Joanna who had no dignity, or soul now it seemed. “I’ll be watching you, Mrs Lavelle,” Max warned her.

“And I’ll be watching you,” she countered.  

Max and Joanna exchanged several warning glances during luncheon but didn’t speak a word about their conversation. Much to Max’s aggravation, Zachary enthusiastically recounted their game of town ball to the table. Maggie had truly starred on the field and she seemed very proud of herself, just as Max was of her.

Maggie caught Max on the porch after their meal and she sat next to him on the swing. She was wearing a plain white shirt and a practical skirt but it looked very fetching on her and was moulded to her slim figure perfectly.

“You are quite the town ball aficionado now, I understand,” commented Max with a coy smile. Maggie smiled at him. He would never understand how a person could dislike Maggie simply because of how she looked. She was beautiful. She was utterly unique and Max was very grateful to have her in his life. That was why he hadn’t brazenly confessed his feelings.

“I was determined,” she replied. “Both Mr Lavelle and Mr Kincaid were quite convinced that I would be awful at their game.”

“So naturally you had to prove them wrong?” Max guessed.

“Of course,” she replied smugly. “Max,” she said, her tone suddenly changing, “can I ask you a question?”     

He nodded. “Certainly.”

Her pale green eyes were fixated on his. “Do you plan on marrying Janna Sunderland?” She was frowning slightly, as if the idea displeased her.

Her question surprised him. It also made him realise that perhaps Janna’s plan was working. “What do you think?” he asked her mysteriously.

“Well that’s why I’m asking!” she said exasperatedly. “You seem to be paying her special attention, you both are always touching in some way and you drew her every feature!” she exclaimed, gesturing down to his drawing book.

When had she seen his drawing of Janna? It then occurred to him that his book had been on his bed as he was changing the evening before when Maggie climbed onto his balcony. She must have seen the drawing.

It was obvious. She was jealous. He was not cowardly. He would call her on it. “Are you jealous of her, Maggie?”

In true Maggie fashion, she slapped his arm and scoffed. “Don’t be absurd,” she retorted. “She is pale, blonde, beautiful, and she seems to have captured your fancy. She is lucky,” she muttered.  

He didn’t answer her question. Instead he asked one of his own. He needed to know if he would have to throw her over her his shoulder to take her away from an altar. “Do you plan on marrying Zachary Kincaid?”

Maggie bit her lip and thought for a moment. “No, no I don’t think so,” she told him truthfully. “I think he likes me very much but I don’t think I want to be married to him.”

Max was very relieved to hear that. Regardless of what had happened between him and Joanna, Maggie would make her own decision, and she was making the right one. He believed she would be a very good mistress to the people who lived at the Lavelle Plantation. She would be kind and compassionate, and she did not need Zachary’s influence or guidance no matter what Joanna thought.

What was even better? She was jealous, even if she denied it. Max wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “You will do good here, Maggie,” he told her quietly, looking out at the extensive, picturesque gardens.

“You really think so?” she asked him vulnerably.

“I know so.”

---

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