I did get a cup of their tea but it was just as ordinary as any I had had. The food was better than usual, and plentiful, though I had to wait until everyone had taken their fill before me. My portion of potatoes was one small nub no larger than my thumb, and the bread had fallen into the pot and was sopped by the time it got to me. The women all stayed hushed as the parson and Master went on about the threat of the French fort not far away. They talked of Indians and the parson said he could speak Indian language and gave forth with some stirring words no one could understand, of which, it seemed, he was proud. The evening wore on and the fire burned low. I felt cold, then hot, my eyes burning as if I had been too close to the fireplace.
The Hasken daughters lined up to bid farewell. I felt a trembling take my bones. I had no time left to plead to him to take me home. I could travel with him wherever he went. Despite Patey’s warning, I thought, I would gladly pay him two gold rings to take me. I sprang from my place on the floor, hoping to elicit recognition that I had something important to say.
“Mary? Come stand behind the girls,” coaxed Master, with a grandiose wave of his arm. “The staff may attend the departure of our guest.”
“Our children,” said Mistress, “shall bid you farewell with a Scripture verse.”
Well and aye, I thought. The girls shall speak to the parson, and I was girl enough for that task. I inched my way into the line of them, standing next to Lonnie. Rachael recited a long and, to me, meaningless verse. The parson corrected her, saying, “The word is ‘thine,’ my dear, not ‘thy.’ Thine own.”
Rachael bowed and curtsied and replied, “God’s blessing on your travels, Reverend Johansen.”
I looked back and forth between Rachael’s face and the parson’s. Betrothed? The parson was older-looking than Rachael’s pa. Why, that would be like Patience marrying some old, old man like Rafe MacAlister! I shuddered. Christine and Lonnie recited. I stared at the parson.
Master said, “Fetch the parson his cloak, Mary.”
“Yes, Master.” I did my best and most gracious curtsy, despite my toe hurting beyond mercy and my clothing smelling of rot. I saw a quiver at the corners of his mouth. He was dampening a smile. I had his sympathy! I ran to the peg and lifted down the cloak to keep it from the dirt floor. “Here, your lordship, reverend sir,” I said, holding the cape as high as my arms would reach. It blocked my face from his view so I spoke through the wool, in the moment it took him to slip on the cloak and fasten the frog. I began a verse, saying, “‘As the hart—’” My eyes went to Master’s face. At his frown I lowered my voice to a whisper and chattered fast as my lips would move, “‘As the hart panteth after the books’—I mean brooks—‘water-brooks: so panteth my heart after—after—Thee’!” I raised my brows more, trying to sort out whether I could ask him to take me away at that moment. “I should like to hear your philosophy about the Psalms.” I shuddered, nearly falling to my knees in a faint, my head swimming as black spots swirled before my eyes.
“The Psalms?” Reverend Johansen asked. He swept the cloak over one shoulder and bent toward me, smiling and patting my head, and said, “Why would you like a sermon on the Psalms?”
My eyes darted back and forth, testing his right eye then his left, trying to discern the answer he wanted most to hear, and without thinking at all, with no reason, I said, “For I want to know when I shall go away, how soon, and for what I am here.” Mistress glared at me. Birgitta, too, and she stepped forward as if to snatch me away for my boldness, but stopped, unsure of whether her duty lay in waiting upon the guest’s departure to lash out.
The parson said, “When shall you go? You are too young to think of death. I doubt that answer is in the Psalms. The reason you are here is that you are to be a maid-of-all-work. See that you glorify the Lord with every good deed.” He turned to the room and said, “God give you good e’en, then. Bless this house and all who reside therein. Amen.” He made for the door and pushed it open, letting a rush of icy air into the room.
I dashed after him, clinging to the wide cloak. “Take me with you, please, your lordship. Help me get home to my mother. I am captured, sir, by pirates. This is not my place.” A sudden sweat poured from my skin and the frigid gust of air made me shiver. “How shall I get home to my mother? She will surely be terrified at this long absence.”
“Mary! Still your tongue!” Mistress hissed at me. “Girls, up to bed, then.”
Birgitta’s coarse hands wrenched my grip from the parson’s cape. “Beg pardon, Parson Johansen. This’n is new and han’t learnt manners yet.” She closed the door before he could respond, and shook me by the shoulders. “What a foolishness!”
He was gone. “How long must I stay?” I cried.
Mistress came before me, her arms crossed. “Mary? Let this happen again and I’ll remember it for sure.”