Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand by Carla Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

complained to Mama, but then she learned to play the hand dealt to her. Sometimes she won, sometimes she lost, but she never threw down a dealt hand again.
    "Do your worst, Marshall," she said to the window. "I will beat you at this hand." She smiled then, and resolved to finally write that long letter to her brothers in Bombay that she had been putting off. She owed them something.
    But first I must face the lions, she thought as she got up and went to the washstand. The water was cold; but she did not care as she stripped off her nightgown and washed until she was a pincushion of goose bumps. Ruthlessly she looked at herself in the mirror, raising her arm over her head and noting how her ribs stuck out. You have taken perfectly dreadful care of yourself, Roxanna Drew, she thought. You are a skeleton with breasts. This will never do. She dressed quickly, and then looked into the mirror again at her face. It was still pretty, an older Felicity with flashing brown eyes and curly hair, and that relieved her. I would like to hear compliments again, she thought as she pulled her hair back and tied it with a white ribbon. I am sick of black. Surely a ribbon will not matter?
    Dressed in black again, she looked out the window and saw a man hurrying across the field from the direction of Moreland. Well, Marshall, did you and the solicitor get to Tibbie as you promised? she asked herself. If the dower house is not to be mine, I will throw myself and the girls on the dubious mercies of the parish poorhouse before I will end up laid in your bed.
    Blunt words, she thought as she went calmly down the stairs and opened the front door, smiling her welcome as coolly as though she greeted the ladies of the parish sewing circle.
    It was a man she did not recognize from the parish. He tipped his hat to her and thrust a note into her hands, then blinked in surprise when she invited him in.
    "My boots is summat muddy," he apologized.
    Roxanna smiled wider. "Come in anyway, sir. I do not have any water on for tea, but—"
    "We haven't no time for that, ma'am," he interrupted as he stepped inside and she closed the door.
    As he waited, cap in hand, Roxanna opened the note from Tibbie and read it quickly. "He has something to tell me?"
    "Yes, ma'am," said the worker. "Told me to walk you back. Says there's some ugly John in the neighborhood he doesn't trust."
    "Well, I have not had an escort in some time, sir," she said. She wrote a quick note to Meggie, warning her not to let the girls out of her sight, and then wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. "Let us not waste a moment of Mr. Winslow's time, shall we?"
    He may have been an escort, but the worker was not a conversationalist as they hurried across the fields. The farm laborers were at work everywhere, scythes flashing rhythmically in the dawn's light, as landowners stole every bit of light for a Yorkshire harvest. She breathed in the wonderful smell of the harvest, and pushed the poorhouse into the back of her mind. Time enough and then some, to think of that.
    At least Tibbie is man enough to tell me bad news face to face, she thought as she hurried to keep up with her protector. He could have written it, and sent back the ten pounds with the letter. I hope I do not beg and plead and look foolish.
    They hurried up the lane, and she was grateful to be spared the sight of the dower house in the rear of the estate. Tibbie sat on the front steps, waiting for them. "Now then, Mrs. Drew," he said as he stood up and held out his hand.
    She shook it. "Well, sir, I thank you for what you tried to do," she said, determined to blunt the knife before he had time to plunge it into her chest. "I am sorry you had to face Lord Whitcomb yesterday. I don't suppose your interview was any more pleasant than mine."
    He nodded and smiled at her. "Ooh, he was in a pelter, wasn't he? That's why I have asked you here, Mrs. Drew."
    Roxanna squared her shoulders and imagined herself six feet tall at least. "Lay it on,