The Bartered Bride. Cheryl Reavis
during the night not to concern herself about Beata Graeber. She would think of nothing but the children—Ann’s and her own unborn child. And she wouldn’t think about Kader or Frederich. She would fix her attention firmly on the girls and on her baby to come, and in doing so, she might tolerate—at least tolerate—living here.
But the sight of Beata’s smug expression when she came into the kitchen immediately put an end to her determination to endure. She had no defense against this woman, and she braced herself for whatever Beata wanted to say. She didn’t have long to wait.
“So! Caroline!” Beata said with a slight smile. “Who did you find to sleep with last night? Ha!”
Beata’s chopped-off laugh set her teeth on edge. She closed her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from making some retort she’d surely regret later. Both children sat at the trestle table, looking from her to Beata and back again.
“It doesn’t matter what you say to me, Beata,” she said quietly. “But it matters a great deal where you say it.”
“They will know sooner or later the kind of woman you are. It might as well be—”
Beata broke off because Frederich was coming in from the barn. He greeted Lise and Mary Louise, patting both of them on the cheek as Caroline had seen him do once before. This fatherly side of Frederich still amazed her, but thankfully he had nothing to say to her. Indeed, he studiously avoided looking in her direction at all. He looked at the table instead and said something to Beata in German. Beata immediately took offense. Frederich spoke louder. After a moment, Beata whirled away from him and went to the dish cupboard to get another plate.
Her plate, Caroline realized.
Beata set it on the table in a huff, all but throwing the knife and fork that went with it.
“Beata has no manners,” Frederich said in English to Lise and Mary Louise as he sat down. “I do not expect to ever see either of you behave in this way.”
“I won’t wait on that—!” Beata shouted, biting off the epithet she didn’t quite have the nerve to use.
“Nor anyone else, either, it seems,” Frederich said. “I have twice the work to be done with Eli gone. I can’t do yours as well. I intend to have peace in this house. You will see to the kitchen—and I don’t mean to hide everything like a silly vindictive child. Caroline will stay out of your way. She won’t bother anything that is yours. Do you understand that, Caroline?”
He looked in Caroline’s direction. Her back was rigid and her chin up. And she was looking at him as if he’d just done something to remove all doubt from her mind that he was as uncivilized and crude as she’d always suspected.
He forced himself to hold her gaze, forced himself to not to let his eyes stray to the soft swell of her breasts. She was almost pretty this morning, in spite of the bruises on her face. Her hair was brushed and braided. She looked clean, freshly scrubbed. He could just smell the soap she’d used to wash in. And the dress was different—pink-checked instead of the faded yellow calico.
But he would not allow himself to be affected by any improvements in her personal appearance. Caroline Holt carried another man’s child, a child he still thought of as a bastard regardless of their sham of a marriage. She still insisted on behaving as if she’d done nothing wrong. She made no excuses. She clearly disdained any kind of forgiveness. She had no remorse for the shame she’d caused the family—his family. “I have asked you a question,” he said evenly. “Do you intend to answer me or are you as ill-mannered as my sister?”
Caroline and Beata both protested.
“Sit down!” he bellowed.
They sat.
“Good,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Caroline, you will take care of the children. Do you understand that?” He glanced at Beata, who was about to flutter her hands and make another protest.
“Yes,” Caroline said, hating the meek sound of her voice. It’s only for the children, she thought, trying to find her resolve again. I don’t want them upset by all this animosity.
“Are you learned enough to teach Lise here at home so that she doesn’t have to be sent to the school?” Frederich asked.
“Yes,” she said again.
“Good. Then I want her taught here. We will say grace now—”
But Beata had stood it as long as she could. She burst forth in angry German.
“Kader Gerhardt will not go hungry because I take my one child out of his school!” Frederich snapped in English. “You always tell me my children make too much work for you. Caroline will take care of them now and the schooling.”
Caroline sat in silence, making some attempt to follow Frederich’s German table grace and taking the bowls of fried ham and fried potatoes and fried cabbage and fried apples Lise handed to her when it was over. But, for once, her stomach didn’t rebel at the sight and smell of heavy German food. She was hungry, regardless of the ill will at the breakfast table, and she ate more than she had in days. There was practically no conversation except when Frederich wanted this or that handed to him and when Beata chastised Mary Louise for giving up eating to wiggle.
Caroline looked up several times to find Frederich watching her, and she stared back at him. She would give in on matters concerning the children in order to keep peace in the household, but he wouldn’t intimidate her about anything else. Yes, her presence was nothing if not disruptive and yes, she was perhaps indirectly responsible for Eli’s glaring absence—but there was nothing she could do about it;
For heaven’s sake, what? she thought when she caught Frederich staring at her yet another time. She longed for a decent bath, but she had made a point of effecting one of sorts in the freezing upstairs room. She’d changed her clothes. She didn’t stink any longer, as he’d so rudely pointed out yesterday. She was trying to keep her manners at least on the same level as Beata’s. She’d agreed to everything he wanted.
Beata said something to Frederich in German and he scowled. But, for once, Caroline thought that whatever Beata had said had nothing to do with her. She tried William’s trick of trying to understand without having any command of the language. It didn’t work.
“I’ve lost a day getting the plowing done,” Frederich said in English.
He was looking at her again, but this time as if he expected some response. She took it for the complaint it was.
“What do you want me to say, Frederich? I’m sorry? Very well. I am sorry.” She abruptly stood up and began clearing her place the way she would have if she’d been at home, but then she stopped. “Forgive me, Beata,” she said. “If I understand the rules, this is your job.”
She left Frederich and Beata sitting and went upstairs. Better to pace the confines of the room she’d been given than provoke another altercation. She was surprised that Frederich would remove Lise from the German school and still more surprised that he would ask—tell—her to teach the child, regardless of William’s theory that Frederich’s need for someone to school his children was at the heart of his marriage proposal in the first place. If Frederich already thought that Kader was unfit to teach German children, he could hardly think her a suitable alternative.
She walked to the window and looked down on the yard below. Frederich was harnessing the great Belgians he used for plowing. She watched as he kissed his daughters goodbye. Had he always been this kind and affectionate to them? she wondered. Or only since Ann died?
She stepped abruptly back from the window because he looked upward in her direction.
The weather had turned much warmer, and she took the girls outside to their own small garden to work. The three of them spent the morning turning the soil and weeding. Ann had helped the girls do this last year. She had been full of life then, full of hope and anticipation about the arrival of her new baby. It was only when