Page 3 of One Last Breath

“Well, you won’t have to worry about any scandals like that here,” she assures me. “Even our ancient past is clean. This home may appear antebellum, but it was built a decade after that unpleasantness with the slaves ended.”

The flippant way she says that unsettles me. Of course, I don’t blame her for actions her ancestors may or may not have committed, but to dismiss the Civil War as “unpleasantness with the slaves?”

My initial impression of Elizabeth sours considerably. “Thank you for the tea,” I tell her. “It’s quite delicious. However, it has been a long journey, and if you don’t mind, I’d like a chance to settle in before meeting the rest of the family.”

“Of course, of course!” she says, leaping to her feet with far more spryness than a woman of her age should have. “Come. I’ll show you to your room. We’ve given you one upstairs rather than in the basement with the rest of the servants.”

How kind of you, I think drily.

Fortunately, I manage to limit my visible response to a smile. As I follow Elizabeth into the house, I cast one last glance back at Moses. He stares down at the invisible nation of Israel with cold fury, and I shiver again before walking inside.

CHAPTER TWO

"Mary!" Elizabeth calls from downstairs, “Come meet the family!”

I feel refreshed after a shower and a moment to clear my mind. I’ve managed to process my feelings about the unusual introduction I have and I’m ready to endure whatever other awkwardness these other meetings will entail.

I head downstairs, and Elizabeth greets me with a smile. "Come with me. The rest of the family has returned, and I can't wait to introduce you."

“I would be delighted.”

Elizabeth beams and leads me to the rear of the house. I can't tell if the smile on her face is genuine. There's a vacancy in her eyes that I don’t notice in our first meeting. She exhibits the Southern charm form requires, but I wonder how much of her charm is natural and how much is learned. She certainly plays the role to perfection.

I don't really want to meet anyone else in the family. I want to meet the servants and their children, but I don't see any value in meeting the family members unrelated to my job. To them, I am nothing more than a housekeeper, and I’d rather keep it that way.

It's not them I'm worried about, of course. It's myself. Already I am analyzing and deconstructing Elizabeth's behavior, and I've known the woman for all of an hour or two. With the Tylers, I am able to keep my relationship strictly business without feeling a need to know every facet of their history and personalities. I suppose the unpleasantness with the Carltons and the weeks spent in fear for my life deaden me enough that I can quell that side of me, but it has risen again in full force.

It's Annie. I know it is. That’s the reason for my inquisitiveness. With the Tylers, I don’t think about Annie at all, and so I’m able to mind my own business, do my job and leave the family’s skeletons—if any exist—to the family.

But Annie is back in my thoughts, and so is this almost supernatural urge to know. If I’m not careful, I’ll land myself in trouble again, and I can’t count on always being able to find a way out of trouble.

Elizabeth leads me through the back door to a porch that if anything, is even more elegant than the front. The table certainly is larger, with room for six rather than the four of the front table. I feel a twitch of irritation that a detail even that small should matter to me.

Then, my attention is pulled to the four occupied chairs. Three of the occupants stand to greet me. One remains in her chair, eyeing me distrustfully.

Elizabeth addresses the older man of the group. “James, this is Miss Mary Wilcox, our new housekeeper.”

James smiles and takes my hand. He brings it to his lips and says with charm that seems far more genuine than his wife’s, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mary. I’m delighted to have you in our home.”

His charm seems genuine, and I can’t deny that I feel a slight fluttering in my chest when the tall, handsome James kisses my hand. Still, there’s a hardness behind his blue eyes, and it’s not simply his charm that makes my voice breathless when I say, “The pleasure is all mine.”

He releases my hand, and Elizabeth gestures to the two younger adults. “This is our son, Christopher, and our daughter Annabelle.”

Annabelle smiles and briefly touches her fingers to mine. She is clearly irritated by her mother, but I don’t believe it has anything to do with me. I see in her eyes the same rebellious nature I see in my sister’s eyes, the same chafing under the weight of family expectations, the same desire for freedom. I know that is a lot to deduce about someone I’ve only just met, but I am confident in my assessment, premature though it may be.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mary,” she says.

Her tone is tolerant and somewhat apologetic, confirming that she isn’t upset by my presence but by the charade her mother insists upon. I don’t blame her. I find this whole game rather uncomfortable myself.

Christopher takes my hand with a smile as charming as his father’s. Thankfully, his eyes don’t show the same hardness. Just as thankfully, he chooses to shake my hand rather than kiss it. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” he says. “I do hope you enjoy your employment with us.”

“Oh, Christopher,” Elizabeth says, flipping her hand. “You and your business terms.” She looks at me and says, “Ever since he received his business degree from Harvard, everything must be talked about as though it’s in a boardroom.”

A touch of irritation crosses Christopher’s face. “Employment isn’t a term for MBAs mother, and there’s no need to bring up my degree to everyone who talks to you.”

“Your mother is only proud of you,” James interjects. “As am I. Still, perhaps Harvard is a subject we can reserve for another day.”

“Yes, you’re quite right, dear,” Elizabeth says. She gestures to the older woman of the group, the only one still sitting. “Mary, this is my mother, Violet.”

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