Controlling it with what she considered true nobility, she battled a similar
longing with regard to Gallagher as she glanced at him over her shoulder and
saw that he was watching her with cool mockery. Before she could give in to
that impulse, or another, equally unworthy one, Mrs. Abbott bustled into the
room from the long corridor that separated the kitchen from the rest of the
house. Designed to spare the house proper from the heat of cooking food, the
corridor served that purpose admirably. It meant, however, that the family
frequently had to put up with food gone cold between stove and table.
“Why, Miss Sarah, whatever ’ave you done to
yourself?” Mrs. Abbott had not lost a syllable of her cockney accent in
the fifteen years she had been in Australia. Like most of the women sentenced
to transportation, her crime had been prostitution, a fact that had caused
Lydia and, following her mother’s example, Liza, when they had first come
to live at Lowella, to treat Mrs. Abbott as if she carried the plague. Only
Sarah’s staunch championship of the woman who had, whatever her past
transgressions, devotedly nursed her mother, coupled with Edward’s
slightly grudging recognition that they did indeed owe Mrs. Abbott a debt, had
kept her from being sent away as soon as Lydia had come home to Lowella as the
second Mrs. Markham. As broad as a barn door and as homely, dressed from neck
to toes in a long-sleeved black bombazine that she wore because, despite the
heat and Sarah’s pleading, she considered it proper attire for a
housekeeper, Bess Abbott had lost whatever degree of beauty she must once have
possessed. At least, Sarah had always assumed she must once have been at least
marginally attractive; wasn’t that a requirement for success in Mrs.
Abbott’s former line of endeavor?
“It’s a long story, Mrs. Abbott,” Sarah
answered, not feeling up to going into the details of what had happened.
Gesturing at the man who loomed behind her, she said, “This is Gallagher.
He’ll be working around the homestead for a while. Gallagher, this is
Mrs. Abbott, Lowella’s housekeeper and a very good cook. If you’re
hungry, I’m sure she has something about the kitchen that you could eat.
After you finish, you can wait for me in the office. Mrs. Abbott will show you
where it is.”
“Be that glad to,” Mrs. Abbott said, smiling at
Gallagher. “Well, sit, man. I’ve just cooked up some gingerbread,
and there’s that, with cream, if you like. Miss Sarah, it wouldn’t
’urt you to stop a minute and eat some too; you’re barely more than
skin and bones as it is.”
“I’m not hungry, Mrs. Abbott.” Conscious of
Gallagher’s broadening grin, knowing that he was deriving great amusement
from her discomfiture, first at Liza’s hands and now at Mrs.
Abbott’s, Sarah flashed him a darkling look before fleeing the kitchen.
He was already, at Mrs. Abbott’s urging, seating himself at the scrubbed
kitchen table. Sarah had no doubt that Mrs. Abbott would serve him an enormous
plate of gingerbread with cream before he could blink an eye. She was
positively beaming at him. Well, Sarah told herself with a sigh as she let the
kitchen door slam, at least I’m not the only one. He seemed to affect
every female with whom he came into contact like catnip affected cats.
On the way to her room, Sarah glanced in through the open door of
the large parlor at the front of the house and saw Mary and Tess, the two
aborigine maids (Lydia had insisted that their names be anglicized; she claimed
that she could never remember their native Australian names, which she thought
were heathen anyway), hard at work polishing the teakwood floor in preparation
for the dancing that would take place on it during Liza’s ball. The rugs
and furniture had already been removed and stored in a little-used room at the
rear of the house. But the walls still had to be scrubbed and the windows
washed,
Similar Books
