Marly kept her head down, bending her knees into a short curtsy as two men walked through the door. The shorter, stockier one barged through as though needing to claim the area much as a dog might claim his territory outdoors. The taller man came through the door slowly, ducking his head to make certain not to bang it against the doorway. Marly hadn’t seen a man that tall since her brothers left three years ago. She had decided to stay in the city while they joined ventured to the sea, saying all men were equal in the squall of a storm on the sea. Her little brother, Martin, vowed to reach the Caribbean and stake his claim to land there and marry one of the beautiful island women he had heard another man speak of when they lived in Florida. He’d always been overly curious about women, beautiful women especially.
The tall man nodded to her. She saw it with her own eyes as she lifted her head to shut the door. Had the mistress of the house seen it she could be reprimanded for impertinence, but the kind eyes that smiled at her with the nod told her he didn’t do it to get her in trouble. Nor did he nod like that Mr. Wilson did as though to try to see through her clothing. This man nodded as though to tell her, “I see you there. I see you. Thank you.”
Marly didn’t know what to do for a moment. She wasn’t supposed to be seen. She was a maid. A maid of a somewhat affluent woman in the town whose husband tried to pretend it was he who held the power. The affluence of her mistress afforded her some clout with some in the market and at the local pub where all the house workers went on their days off, but it never afforded her to be seen by a gentleman who was there to have a secret meeting.
The confusion was too much for her. As the man walked away and into the house, Marly concentrated on the door. It had to be lifted just enough for the latch to hold. It was the humid winters that rotted the wood at fault, but that didn’t matter. If the door didn’t latch, Marly would be given a tongue-lashing. A long, dramatic, drawn out ‘tongue-lashing’ from her mistress which would include questions like, “Do you wish for a strange man to come in here and slit my throat whilst I sleep? Is that your wish when you don’t take the time to latch the door properly?”
Marly pulled on the door to check the latch, then erased the wry smile she knew danced on her lips before turning around to slip into the kitchen. Mistress Carlletta was already greeting her guests and offering some cold lemonade. Marly resisted rolling her eyes. The beautiful lemons that she bought at the market just yesterday were now squeezed into a jar and into butter cookies because Mistress Carlletta was homesick, but she had told her just that morning that the two men were sure to ask for cold tea, which was now all the rage in town. Marly received a cynical laugh in reply meant to put her in her place, but it only made her wish to tisk her tongue. When Carlletta left the kitchen Marly set about setting the glass jar of water in the sunlight, taking a moment to watch as tiny streams of black ran through the water when the leaves hit.
The silver tray with tall glasses sat still on the table. Marly hesitated at the door of the kitchen and listened.
“I think I’d rather have some cold tea,” the short man was saying. “Unless you don’t have any. I don’t wish to be a bother.”
Marly snorted quietly. That short man knew perfectly well he was a bother. Good thing, she knew the people in this town better than they knew themselves. That way her mistress always looked good.
