Guarding the Treasure (9 page)

Anya stopped, reaching to touch the servant's arm. “Colleen, I am sorry. I forgot that you walk this road every day, and some distance at that. We could have hitched the buggy.”

“Nonsense, Miss,” Colleen said, looking directly into her pretty face. “Besides, do you know how to drive a buggy?”

Anya's eyebrows rose, then a broad smile filled her face.

“I did not think so,” Colleen laughed. “I think this is a safer way for us to travel. Come on,” she coaxed, putting her arm around the younger woman's waist.

Dool was full of activity as they walked the narrow street that ran between small mercantile shops on the left and the market on the right.

“Is it always bustling like this?” Anya asked, her eyes and ears absorbing the sights and sounds of peasants and animals milling about.

“This day of the week brings more farmers to the village. They are selling their produce to the local vendors, see? Look there,” Colleen said as she pointed to a middle-aged man in well-worn brown trousers and a faded blue shirt. He was unloading a crate of potatoes and five small containers with wooden lids. “I like to shop on delivery day. The meat and vegetables are fresh, and the best part is I get to see some of my friends and even a neighbor now and again,” she said, stepping onto the wooden platform that lined the front of the market.

“I feel a little awkward,” Anya said, trailing slightly behind Colleen. “I've never been to the market.”

Colleen smiled as she continued to walk slowly, listening to the weary sound of the planks beneath their feet, eyeing what the vendors were showing in their baskets. “Mrs. O'Connell started taking me to the market when she first hired me.”

Anya looked up. A soft smile lay on Colleen's lips as if reflecting upon a fond memory.

“Really? Why would she do that?” Anya asked a curious tone in her voice. “I always thought when Mother was going to the village; she went to get personal items and to see my father at the water's front?”

Colleen stopped to buy two green peppers. Handing the merchant two coins, she tipped her chin to him and continued. “Your mother wanted to guide me to the stands with the best produce.” Her glance went to Anya, who had a pepper in her hand and was breathing deeply of its freshness. “But to tell you the truth, I think she had her favorites, just as my mother still does. She would say, don't buy the first red pepper you see, look further down the line. Then she would smile at me.”

Anya slid her fingertips along the vendor tables as Colleen reminisced about her time with Anya's beloved mother. Her eyes soaked in the brightly colored vegetables as they walked. She breathed deeply, pulling in the strong smell of lemon grass, cilantro, garlic, and onion. The herbs were soothing to her senses, bringing calmness to her mind so absent in the early morning. Anya's expression softened.

“What are you thinking about, Miss?” Colleen asked as she looked over the small, light-skinned potatoes.

“Oh, not much,” she said, sliding alongside Colleen. “Just wondering how I could be so removed from all this, from those who live so close to me?”

Colleen giggled. “Miss, you haven't been removed from anything. You have just lived a different life from many of these.” She stopped, thinking out loud. “But in an indirect way, you are very much a part of what goes on here. Many of the supplies in the market are a result of your father's shipping business.”

She looked about. “Here, let me show you.” Taking her arm, she led her across the street.

“I've been in this store before,” Anya said, reading the shingle that announced the name of the fabric shop.

Colleen opened the door, quickly scanning for a seamstress. “They must be working in the back,” she said. “They will be out to greet us in a fast minute.” She watched Miss O'Connell move among the bolts of fabric. “Miss, most of what is in this store is a result of your father's travels to Canada and other shipping ports.”

“There are some very lovely prints, Colleen. And to think my father had something to do with this!”

“Do you see anything you like?”

“Oh, what do you think of this color?”

Colleen turned to find Anya wrapped in a lilac-dyed fabric, expertly arranging the piece around her shoulders. She gasped in sheer delight. “Miss, that is the most beautiful color I have ever seen,” she crowed, hurrying to hold the fabric near Anya's face. Colleen smiled. “And against your blonde hair and green eyes? Miss, you would look absolutely breathtaking in this.”

Her eyes met Anya's. She watched the excitement vanish as quickly as it had appeared. Colleen guessed what was in the young woman's mind. The last thing she wanted was for every man to be taking to her with his eyes. She also knew that in that color, Anya would be more sensual than ever. “Get the fabric, Miss,” Colleen urged softly. “You will look beautiful.” She tapped Anya's hand with hers. “I will see to a seamstress for you.” She hurried to the back of the store, disappearing behind a dark brown curtain. Soon a middle-aged woman appeared, a measuring tape looped around her neck and a red, tomato-shaped pin cushion in hand.

“Miss O'Connell, it's so nice to see you,” the woman said, sizing her up as she spoke. “We heard about Mrs. O'Connell, Miss, and are truly sorry about her passing. She was a lovely lady inside and out, and a very good customer she was.”

“Thank you, Mrs.—?”

“Clancy,” the woman said, bending as she wrapped the measuring tape around Anya's waist. The older woman continued to chatter as she did the work of getting the details of the dress the two women desired.

“The dress has to have tight tucks, Mrs. Clancy,” Colleen said softly.

“And a plunging neckline,” Anya said, interrupting her constant chatter.

Mrs. Clancy stopped in midsentence and stood, hands on hips and eyebrows raised.

Colleen noticed the look of disgust on her face right off. She quietly scooped the bolt of material into her arms and headed to the counter, hoping to ease any ill feelings the storekeeper may be forming toward Anya.

“Ladies, when do you desire for the dress to be finished?” she asked, tight-lipped.

The two looked at one another. Anya spoke sheepishly. “Could you have it completed by tomorrow afternoon, Mrs. Clancy? I have a party to attend and am in need of it by late day.”

The seamstress set her forehead in several deep lines. She looked down at the lilac material then hard at the young women. “If I start on this right away, I do believe I can accomplish the task,” she said, her facial lines softening a little.

“Thank you,” Anya said, gripping the woman's hands tightly.

“I will be by tomorrow then,” Colleen said as she watched Mrs. Clancy carry the bolt of fabric to the back. She breathed in and released it in relief. If Anya had not been able to accommodate her brother's wishes, well, she feared what he would have done. The thought sent a sudden chill through her.

The door to the front of the store opened, causing both women to turn automatically. Looking past Anya, Colleen saw a familiar face. “Olivia, is that you?” she asked excitedly.

Anya watched as Colleen made her way between the multicolored bolts of fabric, settling at the side of the slender woman who had entered the shop. She watched Colleen and this new dark-haired woman interact. Their friendship was deep—it was obvious by the way they greeted one another. The woman raised her head, and Anya gasped quietly. She had a beauty that she had never seen before. Her skin was a soft olive color, and her eyes—they were as black as a moonless night, with long dark lashes that curled, adding a loveliness that gave pleasure to all the senses. Her lips were small with a tint of natural pink that deepened as an indescribable smile emerged, warm and unassuming. But there was more about the young woman that kept Anya's eyes and mind glued to her. She possessed something else. Something that wasn't natural, something not of herself, she thought. It was a spirit not displayed by her outward beauty. Anya tensed, yet smiled, as the two filed through the fabrics to where she was standing.

“Miss O'Connell,” Colleen said, with strength in her voice. “I would like to introduce you to my friend, Miss Olivia Neely. She lives in the area near me.”

Olivia turned, looking directly at Anya. “Nice to meet you, Miss O'Connell,” she said, her tone pleasant and inviting. “Colleen says many nice things about you. Seems she is very fortunate to have a position working for your family.”

Anya was struck by the shining sincerity in Olivia's voice, by the flow of her words and by something else, but what?

“Thank you, Miss Neely, for your kind words. But it is my family and I who are the lucky ones to have Colleen in our home.” She smiled at Colleen, meaning every word as a compliment. “So you and Colleen are close neighbors?”

“No, not close as the crow flies, but we do attend some of the same meetings in the evenings,” Olivia said.

Anya watched Olivia glance at Colleen, whose smile seemed to flatten out.

Colleen could feel her cheeks start to burn, knowing color had set in. She glanced at the floor, then back at the two staring back at her. Clearing her throat, she said, “Unfortunately, as of late, I have worked past the hour of meeting, so we don't see each other as much as before.”

The three stood silent for a moment.

“What are your meetings about?” Anya asked, looking at both women as she touched Colleen's arm in reassurance.

“We meet to read the words of scripture and pray, Miss O'Connell,” Olivia said softly. You could call it church, but it is more than meeting in a building. It is true concern and communion among each one that attends.” She gave a smile to her friend. “Colleen has asked for much prayer for you and your family, Miss O'Connell, but especially for you.”

Anya's cheeks felt warm as she briefly looked away and then back at the women. No one had offered prayers on her behalf before. She felt humbled and somewhat small in the presence of the two standing with her.

“Miss,” Colleen said nervously. “I have been quite concerned about you these past months, which is the only reason I have asked Olivia and those who meet to think of you.”

Anya heard the shakiness in her servant's voice and her eyes filled with tears. “Colleen, I had no idea you were religious, and it is good you have had others pray for me,” she said gently, trying to alleviate the discomfort she saw in the servant's face. Anya turned to engage the attention of Olivia. “I do not know religion the way you and Colleen know of it.” Anya weaved her fingers together and rested them on the front of her dress. “My mother would go to the church on occasion and carry her string of beads. But that is all I know about religion.”

With each word from Anya's lips, Colleen's body became increasingly tense. Heat began working its way up her neck, and she became more and more uncomfortable with the uncertainty that was creeping into the conversation. She had not talked so openly about such things with Miss O'Connell, not knowing how she would react later. “Miss, it is time we make our way back to Goregoo if I am to prepare dinner for you and Mr. O'Connell,” she said, lifting her basket from a table near the door.

“Certainly, Colleen,” Anya said, turning quickly to Olivia. “Do come to visit Colleen and I, would you? I think I would like to hear more about your meetings if you do not mind to tell me, Miss Neely.”

Anya felt struck by Olivia's bright smile—so totally perfect, captivating, and sincere.

“Miss O'Connell, I do not work for my family tomorrow. Would that be a good day to visit?” Olivia asked.

Anya's eyes widened, “That would be perfect,” she said, agreeing quickly, knowing far too well that that was the evening she was to go to a party with Sean.

“Good.” Olivia turned to Colleen. “I will see you Friday, late morning for tea, aye?” She touched Anya's hand before turning to find the seamstress.

 

The breeze moved gently through the sun-filtered treetops as tea was served promptly at Miss Neely's arrival. Sean was away from the castle for the day, giving the women time to enjoy uninterrupted conversation involving anything they wished to discuss.

“Please sit, Colleen,” Anya said, touching the back of the chair next to her. “And please, a place setting for yourself as well.”

Their eyes met, the exchange heartfelt as deep respect continued to grow between the two like sisters. Colleen gingerly pulled the chair to sit at the garden table across from Olivia.

“Now, both of you call me Anya. We are all near the same age, and class means little to me,” she said. “Besides, since when have friends referred to one another by their surnames?” A playful look flickered in her eyes.

Olivia smiled in agreement as did Colleen. “So Anya, what was it you wanted to know about our meetings?” Olivia asked, breaking a warm biscuit from a plate Colleen had served earlier.

Anya took a sip of tea as she formed her thought. “I have questions, yes. But until yesterday, I did not realize I needed to know about religion much less learn about your meetings. Olivia, I watched the both of you and could see how very important all this is, so, yes, I wish to be enlightened by your words. Whatever you tell me will be new, and I trust it will benefit me as it has the two of you.”

Olivia leaned anxiously toward her. “So what makes our religion different than your mother's, Anya? And please know that I ask with full respect,” she said, a warm smile filling her words.

Anya broke a sigh before she spoke. “I am not sure,” she admitted, her face strained. “There is just something between you and Colleen when you talk, something I cannot explain or even understand. I thought if your meetings had anything to do with that, then possibly you could tell me.” She stopped and took another sip of tea then searched their faces for a true answer.